Two of a Kind Sort Of
by MyShadowWalksBesideMe
Summary: I'm not normal. I've never been normal. How could I be, when I'm sent halfway across the world at a moment's notice? It's better this way. I never missed what I couldn't have ... until now. Now I wonder ... how much have I missed?
1. Culture References and Exploding Gum

**Hey, everyone! Here's chapter one, read and enjoy, and review! Please?**

**BTW, sorry about making her sound depressed. She's really not.**

A file landed on Alan Blunt's desk with a gentle _thud_, distracting him from his work. He glanced up at his secretary.

"Yes?" he asked quietly.

"Sir ... we've gotten another report from our agent," Susan Carpenter said, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Alan Blunt always unnerved her. He was always so calm and quiet and _gray_. It made one wonder if he was actually human, or if he was merely a very humanoid machine.

Alan flipped through the file. On the verge of a breakthrough ... This meant one thing. They needed to send someone in. Now. Unfortunately, their best man wasn't a man at all. And he'd sworn off MI6 permanently.

Alex Rider.

Well, this was an emergency. He would understand. He was a reasonable child. Almost a man, by now. You don't see what Alex Rider had seen and remain a child. Unless you're a very odd child.

"Contact agent Rider, Miss Carpenter."

"Ian Rider, sir?" Susan asked, confused. "But he's ..." Blunt sighed. Some people still didn't know about Alex, and sometimes he had to tell them. He disliked telling people things. It was one of the reasons he'd kept his job for so long.

"I know, Ian Rider is dead. Contact his nephew, Alex. Same information." With a nod, Susan turned to go.

"Oh, and Ms. Carpenter?" Susan turned and looked back at Alan Blunt. He seemed almost nervous.

"Don't tell Mrs. Jones."

--

I picked up the heavy wooden pole, weighing it in my hands. Christy, my combat instructor, was watching me, and I smiled at her.

"A quarterstaff? Aren't these things a bit ... outdated? I mean, come on. Robin Hood fought with these things in Medieval England," Christy said. I frowned at her.

"Culture reference! You know I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about! And besides, don't you know better by now than to ever rule anything out?" I asked. Christy groaned and picked up the staff, admitting defeat.

"Fine. We'll fight with quarterstaffs today. But if I start talking like I belong in the fifth century, or quoting Robin Hood, it's your own fault." I hefted the staff in my hands and slipped into ready position.

"MEREDITH, CADEN WANTS YOU IN HIS OFFICE"

I dropped the staff and grabbed my track jacket.

"Wonder what he wants? I hope it's not another one of those specialists," I said as I walked out the door.

--

"Why do you want our help?" Frank Caden asked. Mrs. Jones smiled.

"Because we have proof that one of your agents faked his death and went rogue. You have as much of a reason to act now as we do." She pressed a button, and a security tape playback began playing on the televison screen. A man who looked to be in about his early thirties was walking down a street in a foreign country.

"Valencia," Mrs. Jones clarified. But Mr. Caden was more interested in the tape than the woman sitting in his office. The man had stopped at a street corner, and was talking to another man.

"And that's the other reason you're here," Caden said. Mrs. Jones. She nodded.

"He came to our agency, but we turned him away. You accepted him as a double agent? Don't you know how dangerous that is?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Are you advising intelligence agencies now?"

"Of course not!" she snapped, irritated. "But maybe you don't quite realize who that is."

"I know exactly who that is."

"Are you aware of his record?"

"Police or intelligence?"

"Both."

"Yes."

"Then you should have been more wary of employing him. He might still be working for Scorpia." Caden abruptly turned off the television and turned back to Mrs. Jones.

"I've seen all I need to see. I'll send her on a covert ops mission with you, that means no red tape. She's on her way now."

Mrs. Jones steeled herself for another bitter, sarcastic teenager. She wouldn't blame this girl if she hated all of them. After all, what kind of life could she have, working for the CIA for so long?

--

"Where's Shultz?" I asked Caden as soon as I walked in the door. Shultz was always there when I was getting another one of those diagnostic tests. Which I hated.

"You're not here for another test, you're here to be briefed on your next mission," the woman sitting in Shultz' chair said, and I smiled at her. She had a definite English accent, most likely somewhere in Chelsea. Her hair was cut in a rather choppy bob, she was dressed in a nondescript, tan lady's business suit. She was sucking on a peppermint. Tulip Jones. It had to be.

"Hello, Mrs. Jones. I'm Meredith. What's my mission? Where am I going? What's my cover?" I asked, grinning. Okay, I was a little overeager. But it was my first mission in two years, okay? Do you have any idea how long two years is when you've got nothing to do but train, do tests, and get yelled at by Caden for trying to sneak out? _A long time_.

It's worse when you're grounded.

Yes, I had no cell phone, no friends to call if I did, no computer, and no TV, and it _still_ sucked to be grounded.

"You'll be going under cover."

"Obviously," I interrupted, with an admittedly unladylike snort. She didn't skip a beat, just kept right on talking.

"You'll be going to London, staying there as an exchage student, with a civilian." I stared at her.

"For six months." My eyes bugged out of my head, an uncharacteristic reaction.

Meaning, I reacted.

"Six months? What's my identity? When am I leaving?" The lady checked her watch.

"In about ... an hour and twenty minutes."

Well.

"An hour and twenty minutes?" I repeated in disbelief, mainly because nothing where I grew up ever took that long. Everything is so efficient that if you _sneeze_ they have to scurry to make up for lost time.

"Your name is Emily Blake, you're from Whiteville, North Carolina. You have three sisters, Anne, Kate, and Lizzy. No brothers. You like to keep to yourself. Your father is a blue-collar worker, and you stay at home during the summer. You're on this trip because of a scholarship. You attend the local public high school, and you've got a 4.0 grade point average. You prefer soccer to football. I think we can leave the rest of it up to her imagination, don't you, Mr. Caden?"

"I'll be fine," I said shortly. "If that's all, then I suppose I'll go and pack my things. It won't take me long; will we be leaving early if I'm ready before the allotted time is up?" Mrs. Jones shook her head. I would pe packed in ten minutes. What would I do for the next hour?

"You'll need to alter your appearance, for your safety. Also, we'll need to take you shopping, and you'll have to get your gadgets." I grimaced. Shopping?

This would not be fun.

--

"Hi, Starr. I need some gadgets. Then they're taking me _shopping_. Can't they just say I lost all my clothes in a fire, or something?" I had an innate dread of shopping. All those people, especially in malls. No security worth mentioning, all the places to hide destructive things. It's fun to people-watch, though.

"Yes, I heard they're sending you out again. About time. I'm bored to death making gadgets for grownups." Starr smiled at me from behind her desk. She was about twenty-five, with short black hair, and blue eyes. When she took care of herself, she was quite pretty. At the moment, though, the black hair was in disarray all around her face, and the blue eyes were almost glazed over, and distracted. Ms. Kelsey Starr had obviously lost something. Again.

"I just finished testing that one. Where on earth did I put it? It's got to be here somewhere ..." She trailed off and began pacing, muttering to herself. I smiled and looked at the items on her desk. An iPhone, a digital camera, a pack of gum, a supersized tube of toothpaste (?) and a pair of sunglasses. Interesting. Some of it looked like regular junk, but with Starr, you never know.

"Can I have a piece?" I asked hopefully, picking up the gum. I wasn't allowed to have gum. Caden said it was 'unhealthy, low-class, and atrociously bad manners'. But it's yummy. It's also like cigarettes. Universal currency.

"Sure," Starr said absently, then turned and snatched the piece right out of my hands.

"No! That's what I've been looking for!" Disappointed, I set down the package. Dang.

"It's a pack of gum, Starr. What am I supposed to do, chew my way out of any life-threatening situations?" She stared at me, horrified. Too late, I realized that I'd broken the cardinal rule: Never judge something by it's appearance.

Oops.

"Never, under _any_ circumstances, chew this gum!" she yelled.

Say _what_? I just judged a book by its cover, assumed that something was what it seemed, and she was yelling at me, but she wasn't chewing me out **(npi! :D)** she was telling me to never chew this gum. Is that wierd to anyone else, or just to me?

Okay, probably just to me.

"Um ... okay. Can you explain why, or is that all the information I'll be getting?" She rolled her eyes.

"It's my job to explain, Mer. Did you ever see _Mission: Impossible_?" I shook my head.

"Culturally deprived child here, Starr. No movies, remember? They rot your brain out, according to Caden." She sighed.

"Well, you press the wide edges together, and then run like hell."

"Tell me why I'm running instead of meandering away at a liesurely, inconspicuous pace. I suspect that the gum is explosive," I said shortly. I know, i shouldn't have been so sharp with her, but _shopping_.

She handed the gum to me with a flourish.

"Correct! There's a four-second fuse, then it explodes with the force of a very small nuclear bomb, without the devastating radiation aftereffects." I slipped the gum in my pocket and examined the iPhone.

"I see nothing extraordinary on the outside, no fantastical special features, and the only thing to keep this from belonging to any bum on the street is the fact that Caden's number is programmed in on speed-dial. His name is Frank?" I popped off the back and removed the battery, then grinned.

"Miniature lock-picking kit. Nice work, Starr. I'm impressed. What about the sunglasses and the camera?" I asked, picking up the camera and turning it on. Starr beamed.

"The sunglasses have a hidden camera in them, and they also record sound. You view the footage on the camera." I nodded, then turned and left with my new, very destructive toys. I still had to pack. And go shopping.

Joy.

--

"Are you certain this will work?" Levi Kroll asked concernedly. He was a plumpish Israeli man of about sixty-five, with black, graying, receding hair, shrewd black eyes, and a lust for power that allowed nothing to stand in its way. Especially rivals. Zerjan Kurst nodded.

"It will work," he said heavily.

"But the last two operations ..." Kroll let the sentence trail off, knowing that Kurst would understand what he meant.

Alex Rider.

The young English boy, who was also a spy for MI6, seemed to have the luck of the devil.

Kurst slammed his fist down on the table, irritated.

"I said it will work!" he snapped. His accent, pronounced under the best of circumstances, made his speech almost unintelligible when angry.

He was angry right now.

Kroll nodded, satisfied for the moment, and flipped through the file. He read quickly, sometimes nodding, and muttering to himself in Yiddish every now and again.

"This is an unusual assignment," Kroll finally murmured, closing the file. Kurst shrugged.

"The client is willing to split all profits fifty percent."

"But what about the Rider child?" another member of the board insisted. It was Josef Asimyonova, a higher-up in the Russian Mafiya. Kurst glared venemously, but Asimyonova held his ground.

"Well," he insisted, "what about him? He destroyed Invisible Sword, as well as Major Yu and the Snakehead, which cut our profits considerably. Another failure could drive us out of business. And," he continued, leaning forward, "he killed Major Sarov. Sarov was my cousin. I want something done about that Rider child!"

The board members shifted uneasily in their seats. No one like the idea of going out of business; and in their business, tools of the trade were not cheap.

Also, any show of emotion except anger unnerved them, as a general rule, and even anger left them wary. Emotions were a sign of weakness, and anger meant someone might be waiting for you in a dark alley with a knife, or a radioactive pellet might be slipped into your food in the near future.

Kroll, however, seemed unperturbed.

"If he does not interfere, we will kill him afterwards. This is far too important to the organization. We can't afford to get sidetracked."

Asimyonova leaned forward menacingly.

"And if he does?" Kurst regarded him impassively.

"We will kill him. Either way, the boy will die. It's merely a question of when."

He sounded so utterly confident that some of the less experienced members were put at ease.

**So ... Chapter One!! Well, sorry I took so unbearably long, I've just been super busy this summer. I still haven't finished my summer reading project, and school starts in 5 days! **

**AAAAHHHHHHHH!!**

**Sorry. Meltdown over.**

**BTW, thanx a million and three to:**

**Eli the anonymous reviewer. I don't know if you have an account or not, but thanks for reviewing!!**

**xxIanRiderxx Yeah, I could have written more, but I was pressed for time, and it was pretty late, and I was falling asleep on the keyboard. :D**

**indianaxxjones / Marinaxx YAY!! Sorry for not updating ASAP, but, Scout's Honor (and I really was in Brownies in kindergarten, so this counts) I will update more often now.**


	2. Pentecostal?

**I'm back! Wow. Three reviews for my new chapter! Okay, it's kind of lame to be deleriously happy about three reviews. But I didn't expect any, so three is good!**

**l8rg8r123: ****Don't worry, you didn't sound like a flamer. And it _is _annoying that every single Alex-Girl OC fic on the site they fall in love. **

**I rather like the idea of being worshiped forever ...**

**Really, my idea was -- wait. I can't tell you! But it wasn't very romantic, as romance fics go. And thank you for saying you loved my writing! Happy things like that bring sunshine to my day, especially on cloudy days like this one. :D**

**LittleSquirt1: Short as it was, thank you for your review. And here's my update!**

**MidnightsRose: Thank you. Thank you very much.**

**Anyways, here's the next chapter!**

Alan Blunt knew the game was up when Mrs. Jones stalked into his office, eyes blazing.

_"What_ were you thinking, exactly?_" _she demanded.

"I was thinking of the good of the United Kingdom of Great Britain," he replied calmly.

"What about the good of Alex Rider?" Blunt's eyes narrowed.

"Sometimes the good of the individual must be sacrificed for the good of the whole. The man's weakness is _children_, for God's sake! Did you really expect me to just pass up the perfect opportunity for the sake of your conscience?"

"Not for the sake of my conscience, for the sake of Alex's sanity. A fourteen-year-old boy shouldn't have to watch people die. Especially people like his godfather."

"Fourteen-year-old boys in Afghanistan watch their entire familys being slaughtered every day. And it's not like it's my fault you care too much," he pointed out.

"It's not like it's my fault you don't care _at all_, either," Mrs. Jones shot back, taking Blunt by surprise.

"That's not true!" he insisted.

"Oh, really? Then explain to me why you're sending him out again, after he told us he didn't want anything more to do with us."

"He loves children. Our surest way in is to send Alex, as his son. He'll be trusted automatically; if not because he's supposedly the rogue's son, then because he's a boy, and looks harmless."

"Well, he's going to have some trouble. We've sent out the lead about his son, and he's demanded that the boy be sent to him in Valencia. But he's also requested that a friend come with him for a short time, to help him adjust."

Blunt sat back in his chair, perplexed. This was an unseen difficulty, and for once he had no idea how to react.

"A friend?" he repeated, making sure he'd heard right, his mind racing to adjust to this new, entirely unwelcome development.

"Yes, a friend. Fortunately, I found a way to comply with the rogue's request, and double the odds of our success as well."

"How?" Blunt asked, genuinely puzzled. It was a new and unpleasant feeling for him.

"I called in a favor with my opposite in America. We've arranged for an American agent to pose as his friend. An American teenage agent."

Blunt leaned back in his chair, still puzzled, and beginning to feel irritated with himself for his puzzlement.

"But the Americans introduced a teenage boy into the Miami drug syndicate and he was killed almost immediately. They aren't going to try training a child any time soon."

Mrs. Jones heaved an exasperated sigh.

"The boy was a ruse, a decoy, if you will. He was simply a distraction, to keep attention away from the real agent, a girl. She's fourteen, Alex's age, and she'd do quite well as his girlfriend. Also," she added, an unwarranted smile slipping through, "she's quite pretty. We've sent her in as a foreign exchage studen to stay with him until he makes his decision."

Blunt stared at his deputy, unsure he'd heard correctly.

"Alex will be housing a girl?" he asked. Mrs. Jones nodded, detecting a slight hint of sympathetic panic in his voice. Blunt himself knew nothing about females; Mrs Jones knew that much for certain.

"Don't worry; they'll be fine together. Just ... give them as long as you can, Blunt. And I'd prefer it if her identity was kept from him for as long as possible."

Without even saying goodbye, Mrs. Jones got up and left. She was still far too angry with Blunt to even pretend to respect him for the moment.

--

"Carla, I need you to get some alterations for Meredith," Christy said, leading me into the 'disguises' room. Carla's in charge there, like Starr with gadgets. Christy says that it's just a coincidence that the heads of most of the departments are female, but I think women just run things better. We're wired for it.

"Carla, I need you to die my hair, and I also need colored contacts. Unfortunately, they have to be realistic this time." Carla grinned at me. On some of my missions, I can get away with really outrageous stuff, like silver eyes. However, no one really has silver eyes, and I would have to blend this time.

"Alright, Meredith. Hmm. I think I've got just the thing. We'll have to cut your hair, though. Not much, I don't think it'll go above your elbows, but that long of hair isn't normal." I shrugged. My hair, which is plain brown and curly, _was_ pretty long, but I didn't really notice, since it was always pulled back in a braid anyway.

"So, off to the hair salon!" Carla cried, and off we went.

"I really don't see why you always wash my hair, Carla. It's not like it isn't clean. I understand that you have to get it wet, because it's curly." Carla tut-tutted as she worked.

"Meredith! Don't spoil my fun! This is a part of the process. I have to wash your hair. It's a ritual. Up!" I rolled my eyes and moved to the cutting chair.

I cringed as I heard the snipping of the scissors and felt the hair falling away from my head. Maybe it was stupid to be this attached to my hair, but, you'll admit, I didn't have all that much to be attached to.

"I, personally, think you'd be lovely as a fiery redhead, but Christy insists that you need to _blend_," Carla muttered, pausing to make air quotes. I shrugged.

"You can go red if you like, but it has to look natural." Carla shot Christy a triumphant look, and I laughed.

"Wow. _Very_ mature." Carla rolled her eyes and kept working, getting out a small razor for texturing and layering.

"Well, somebody has to be childish around here." Carly finished with the razor and began working the dye through my hair.

"It's about time they sent you out again. It's been what, two years? Really, that's a bad idea, making you wait so long. You might get psychological paranoia. It's like riding a horse. If you fall off, you need to get right back on." I smiled absently at Carly's goodnatured prattling and closed my eyes.

"Done!" she finally announced, after blowing my hair dry. "Here, put these in" she instructed, giving me a pair of contacts. I slipped them in and looked into the mirror.

"It's not me," I gasped. Carly chuckled.

"It's not supposed to be, stupid." It couldn't be me.

I had curly brown hair that went almost all the way down my back. I had somewhat almond-shaped brown eyes.

The girl in the mirror had straight, reddish gold hair that didn't quite reach her elbows, and wide, solemn, dark blue eyes.

"Do I really have to go shopping? I think I look pretty good as is." Christy laughed and took my arm.

"Clever, but no. You're not getting out of it. Come on, we've got to get going." I sighed and allowed myself to be led away. Maybe I would have to go, but I wouldn't have to make it easy for them.

--

"Meredith! Stop trying to run away!" Christy said sharply, grabbing my arm. I tugged at it, trying to return to the parking lot.

"I want to go back!" I protested. Carly threw up her hands in despair.

"But we haven't even gotten inside the shopping mall!" she cried.

"I don't care. I _still_ want to go back." Christy rolled her eyes.

"You're supposed to be more mature than this! Really, if you're like this then it's a miracle you ever live through a mission."

"Well, I just _hate shopping_. Alright?"

"All _wrong_! You're a girl! You're supposed to -- Why am I even arguing with you? This is pointless."

"Apparently, coercion is in order. Meredith, if you go with us, _uncomplainingly_, to six stores, we'll let you choose a store to go to."

"Really?" I asked, brightening immediately. I could actually _choose_ something?

"Really." I tugged on my arm again, this time in the direction of the mall.

"Let's go then! Hurry, hurry!" I urged, eager to get through the shopping and on to my choice. It didn't matter that the ratio of their choices to mine was grossly unfair, I rarely got to choose anything.

--

"Go! Go, pick something out and try it on," Christy urged. I shrugged and wandered off into the store.

Let me see ... Tight jeans, tight tops, tight swimsuits, and tight jackets. Was there anything in here that didn't look like it was painted on?

Yes. The nightgowns.

Obviously, clothing at The Limited Too was not designed for practicality. Or comfort, come to think of it.

Eventually, I picked out an outfit and went to go try it on. It was a pair of faded, holey jeans, a green tank top, and a white knit cap. The only reason I picked the holey jeans was because they were the biggest jeans in the store. And they were still uncomfortably tight. I'm not fat, but running and working out as much as I do builds a lot of muscle.

"Take those jeans off and get a bigger size, this very instant!" Christy ordered when I stepped out of the dressing room.

"Can't. These are the biggest jeans in the store," I told her flatly. "Also, I have doubts as to whether or not I can actually remove myself from the jeans, as they seem to have grafted to my skin." Christy sighed thoughtfully and sat down in her chair.

"Well, we might as well ask Carla. She's over there, trading makeup tips with the girl at the counter." Carla ran over when she saw that I was out of the dressing room, and stopped dead in her tracks.

"You look like you sprayed on those jeans, Meredith. Get a bigger size."

"They're the biggest jeans in the store," Christy informed her. Carla sighed.

"Well, change into your regular clothes, and we'll take you to a different store." I eagerly ran back into my dressing room. When you start to get blisters from a pair of jeans, something's not right.

--

"Hey, what about that store?" I asked, pointing out a store with 'AMERICAN EAGLE' written over the door. It was kind of dark inside, but the clothes looked like they were made for normal-sized teenagers, not little anorexic girls.

"Okay," Carla said, surprised that I suggested a store. We went inside and I started looking around, feeling the material and looking at the way the clothes fit.

"I like these jeans," I said, holding up a pair of 'dark wash' jeans for inspection. Christy raised her eyebrows.

"Try them on, then. And pick out a shirt and some shoes." I picked out a 'graphic tee' and a pair of strappy sandals, then asked for a dressing room and tried them on. The tee-shirt was a little tighter than I would have liked, but it was still a big improvement from the clingy tank top at the last store. And I like my shirts to sort of hang off of me. That way they don't restrict movement.

"What do you think?" I asked, pirouetting for my fashion consultants.

"I love the dark wash jeans with the silver gladiators!" Carla squealed, running over to me. I shrugged, slightly embarrassed that she was making such a fuss over nothing.

Christy eyed me critically.

"She needs some jewelry. Something dark blue, to match her eyes." With these rules in mind, I strolled over to a jewelry display and picked out a little silver chain with a dark lapis lazuli pendant that sparkled in the light. I slipped it over my head and fiddled with the pendant. It would take a little while to get used to it's weight. It wasn't all that heavy, it's just I wasn't used to jewelry.

"Well? Do I pass?" I asked, and Carla nodded vigorously.

"One hundred percent! I love that outfit on you! We're getting that." I shrugged and submitted to being humiliated, until they pulled me over to the bra and underwear display.

"No!" I hissed, pulling away. _"Not happening_. Okay? It's just _not_._"_

"Aw, come on, Meredith," Carla whined, dragging me back over there by my hair. "Be a sport."

"Would you rather go without?" Christy asked, grinning. I made a face. Of course, Christy knows me better than Carla ever will. She knows how to reason with me.

"Ew! Christy! That's just _gross_," I moaned, submitting to the humiliation of a _bra fitting_.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered, holding my arms up.

They figured my size and I happily ran away to pick some out.

"Why do they have them in pretty colors?" I asked, puzzled.

"Because some guys don't like plain white bras," Carla said, then clapped a hand over her mouth. I stared at her for a long moment, then went back to browsing.

"Wierdo."

--

Have you ever heard that expression, 'shop 'till you drop'? Yeah ...

"Can we go now?" I moaned, as we walked out of our sixth store. Christy and Carla looked at each other over my head, and shrugged. They did that a lot.

"Um ... you still have a store to choose, but we can go home if you want," Christy replied. I perked up immediately.

"I think I want to go to ... hmm ... Oh! I know! I want to go to Hot Topic! I squealed, remembering the funky little store we'd passed several times."

"Okay, let's go, then," Carla said, pleasantly surprised that I picked a clothing store.

"May I help you?" a young man asked, grinning at me. I smiled back.

"You can sure try. I'm just here to, you know, shop around. Keep my options open."

"Check out the hoodies," he suggested. I laughed, slightly bemused.

"Why?"

"I don't know. You just seem like a hoodie kind of girl." I smiled at him.

"Well, then, I'll just trust the expert."

"You were so totally flirting with that guy!" a random girl hissed as I flipped through the hoodies. I paused and sent her a bemused stare.

"Flirting ..." I trailed off and shook my head, puzzled. She stared at me.

"You don't know what flirting is?"

"No. Why? Is it really stupid not to know what flirting is?" I asked, worried. What had they done, sheltering me like this?

The girl rolled her eyes and took my arm, pulling me behind a rack of sweatshirts.

"Okay. That guy thinks you're cute. So he talks, and smiles, and acts really friendly. Maybe you think he's cute. So _you_ talk, and smile, and act really friendly. Get it?" I nodded slowly.

"I think so. Thanks." She grinned.

"No problem. Hey, you keep fiddling with your hair, like it's not supposed to be that short. And you don't know what flirting is. Are you Pentecostal, or something?"

I didn't know what Pentecostal was, but I just nodded and smiled.

"Yeah, I am. Is it really that obvious?" She laughed.

"Well, maybe the flirting thing tipped me off." I grinned at her and we went back to shopping. _Flirting_. Something useful to file away in my brain for later. You never knew when that sort of thing might come in handy.

--

"How did it go?" Caden asked when the three of us walked into his office.

"I hate you," I muttered, flopping onto a chair. "Almost as much as I hate shopping." Caden frowned.

"Typical female exaggeration."

"Why didn't you tell me about flirting?" I demanded, leaning forward. He raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't think it necessary information. Why?" I glared at him.

"I had to pretend I was Pentecostal! And I don't even know what Pentecostal _is_! What else have you deemed unnecessary? Because _apparently_, it's not so unnecessary anymore."

"I have told you everything I deemed necessary for you to know."

"Apparently not. Let's get on with it," I snapped. "What's my mission, where am I going, why am I going?"

"You'll be staying with one Alex Rider, aged fourteen. Parents deceased, looked after by one Jack Starbright. Starbright is an American; she went to London as a student years ago and never left. We'll contact you with your mission information when the time comes." I stared at him, uncertain I'd heard right.

"Wait ... you're not even going to tell me my mission? You're just going to send me out there?"

"Yes."

_"Why_?"

"Because you don't need to know." I got up and left to go pack. My goodbye was less than cordial.

"I _really_ hate you."

--

All of my clothes, new and otherwise, were packed in fifteen minutes, partially because all of it was already folded, either in a shopping bag or in a drawer.

Christy had taken me to Barnes and Noble and bought me several books, as well as taking me to a computer store and buying me a laptop, ostentibly so I wouldn't be bored on the plane.

I think it was more of a bribe so I wouldn't break her nose when I got back, for making me endure a bra fitting.

When my backpack and suitcase were ready, I looked around the room for anything else I might want on my trip. After much deliberation, I grabbed Sunny and tucked her into my backpack.

Sunny was my only birthday present, from when I turned seven. She was a soft, fluffy little golden teddy bear, and she was pretty small. She was also the richest teddy bear in the world, because my life savings was stiched into her head, all in all about fifty thousand dollars. Hey, when the CIA give you spending money, they _really_ give you spending money.

I slipped into my backpack, grabbed my duffel bag, and left without a backward glance. I didn't think about how likely it was that I would never see that room again.

It's just easier that way.

**So, Chapter Two is now up! For those of you who were wondering, this is the last chapter until ... um, ever, I think ... without Alex in it. Well ... that's it for now, I guess.**

**Shadow**


	3. And Then She Called You 'SHE!

**Hey! Here's the next chapter!**

**To all of my lovely reviewers:**

**Wolfmonster: First chapter with Alex in it, right here! ****Yeah.**

**JCJF.lover: Thanks! I read somewhere that simple compliments are the most likely to be sincere. As for more Alex, here ya go!**

**Asianwannabe13: Um ... how could you NOT make Alex hot? Don't worry, the only emotions I see him feeling in the future are some sympathy, some more anger, and quite a little bit of cold, calculating fury. About the Blunt thing. ... DUH. Unnecessary! Of course he's all smart-alecky to Blunt! That's one of the many things I love about Alex.**

**loopygirl33: Here's my update! Hope you like it as much as you've liked the rest!**

**MidnightsRose: Thank you. Whether that's a compliment or not, I intend to consider it one.**

**Of course I will right about Alex! This is an Alex Rider fanfiction, is it not? Or did I miss something ...**

**XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX: Hah! You didn't say HOW MUCH more!**

**Mrs.JonesPeppermintProvider: I'm planning on dealing with that later in the story. Seriously, I have this whole conversation planned out in my head. Cookies for you for noticing and asking me about it!**

**sheluby94dreamer: Sorry. I know this is kind of mean.**

**Tobi X: Thank you! I'll update again soon!**

**l8rg8r123: You're the only one besides MidnightsRose to update twice. Many cookies for both of you!**

**Meh. If you want to crush my literary dreams, is it any business of mine? Seriously, though, I'm glad you like my writing. About shopping. I mainly got my inspiration for how whiny and immature she was from when we had to drag my brother along shopping for my older sister's prom dress. XD. When he started banging his head against the wall, we decided it was time to go. I love him so much. :D Fine! Here's an update! Happy? Well? ARE YOU?? Seriously. Tell me.**

"We are now arriving at Heathrow airport. Please fasten your seatbelts, and return your seat to an upright position. Thank you."

That's what woke me up.

For a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then I looked around the plane and it all came back to me.

I was on my first mission in two years. I was going to London. No one had seen fit to tell me what my mission was.

And, worst of all: I would be staying with a civilian.

I got out the photograph of Jack Starbright and studied it.

She looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties, petite, with short red hair and a sweet face.

I fixed her face in my mind, then folded the picture and returned it to it's place in my pocket.

I was wearing those jeans from American Eagle and a dark blue top, along with my necklace and a pair of Converse sneakers. It would probably be chilly in London, so I threw that hoodie I ended up buying from Hot Topic overall. Hey, I felt like I owed it to that guy.

I grabbed my backpack, took my duffel bag out of the overhead compartment, and exited the plane, realizing with a start that I had absolutely no idea how I was going to get from the airport to the house. However, my fears proved to be unfounded; Jack was waiting for me with a sign.

"Hi, I'm Emily," I said with a smile. "You must be Jack." She smiled back at me.

"Hi! Yeah, I'm Jack. Is this all the stuff you brought?" she asked, looking at my duffel bag and my backpack. I shrugged.

"Yeah, it is. I don't have very much stuff that's appropriate for colder weather, and so I just brought what I have with me right now." Jack picked up my duffel bag and threw the sign away.

"Then let's go home. It's a bit of a hike, and I'm sure you're starved. By the way, I'm not a very good cook. At all. You've been warned." I smiled at her and took my bag back.

"I'm sure you're just being modest. Here, I'll take my bag." She looked like she was about to argue with me, then thought the better of it and shrugged.

"Okay. Let's go, the car's this way." I followed, hoping against hope that my host would either be completely uninterested in me or slightly stupid.

--

"I'm _what_?!" Jack looked up from her mug of coffe and began inching towards the door.

"You're going to be hosting a foreing exchange student. An American." Alex crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her. He knew Jack wanted to keep him relatively busy, so that he would forget about MI6, but this was taking it too far.

"Don't look at me like that, it wasn't my idea!" Jack protested.

"Well, you can tell them that their little American foreign exchange student can turn back around as soon as he gets off the plane and get right back on it again, because he's _not_ staying here." Jack sighed.

"They have no place else to go. And the school said that they're willing to give you extra credit in most of your classes if you did this for them." Alex frowned. Did the school have the authority to do that? Essentially fudge a student's grades?

But he needed all the help he could get, and by now he didn't really care where it came from.

"Alright. I suppose I can stand having some American boy poking around," he grumbled. Jack bit her lip, a sure sign that there was more bad news on the way.

"Um ... The student ... is a she." Alex stood up, his chair shooting back and banging against the wall.

"_No_," he said adamantly. "I might be able to stand a boy poking around into my business, trying to be friendly, but a _girl_? No. _No_, Jack. You can go up to school right now and tell them I _refuse_ to host a girl." Jack glared at him.

"You listen to me, Alex Rider. You may have saved the world and faced evil billionaires with plots to take over the world, but you are still a fourteen-year-old boy. You _will_ host this girl, and you _will _be civil to her." Alex raised his eyebrows.

"Anything else?" he asked icily. Jack rubbed her forehead self-consciously.

"Yes. I can't believe I just said that. I'm sorry, Alex." Alex relaxed and hugged her.

"S'okay, Jack. I guess I can live with a girl. Maybe. What's her name?" He really wouldn't have given in so easily, but he felt guilty that he was being so awful to Jack. After all, she was being pretty great about his running off to save the world at a moment's notice.

"Her name's Emily, and she's from some little town in North Carolina."

Jack sighed and looked at him. It had been a month since the incident with the Australian Secret Service, and his hair had grown back until it was almost as long as it had been. He'd grown about an inch and a half, and his shoulders had broadened some.

But it was the look in his eyes that made him look older.

"I have to go and pick her up from the airport," Jack said, grabbing her purse and hurrying towards the door.

"She's coming _today_?!" Alex yelped. Jack cringed.

"Um ... yeah. She is. Sorry to spring it on you like this, but ... yeah. I have to go." Alex stared at the door as it swung shut behind her.

A _girl_.

--

"So ... what's Alex like?" I asked, trying to make conversation. Jack was silent for a long moment, and for a minute I thought she hadn't heard me. I was about to ask again when she replied.

"Alex ... Alex is kind of quiet, but pretty nice, I guess. I suppose I know a different side from everyone else, since we're so close." I nodded.

"Understandable. What's she look like?"

"Um ... somewhat shaggy blonde hair, brown eyes, and pretty cute." I nodded.

"Okay. Is she in any sports?" Jack hesitated for a long moment.

"Um ... football, and that's about it." I nodded again, then remembered that a normal American girl wouldn't have automatically crossed over to 'Brit-speak'.

"Wait ... there's a girl's football team?" I asked, and Jack smacked her forehead.

"Sorry, I've been here too long. Soccer. Alex plays soccer."

"Oh. Okay."

We rode the rest of the way in silence, broken only by Jack pointing out Brookland Preparatory School, where I would be attending school until I found something better to do.

--

Alex sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his hair. What had he been thinking, letting Jack convince him to host a _girl_? He'd had enough of girls for awhile, since Sabina had gone back to America.

Apparently, his life just didn't suck enough.

He tried to busy himself by tidying the house, figuring that it wouldn't do to look like a slob the first time he met the girl. What had Jack said her name was? Emily?

After about an hour, Alex decided that the house was clean enough to pass his maniacal Sergeant's inspection and went to shower and change.

A _girl_.

After he got out of the shower, Alex decided to try and work on the steadily growing pile of make-up work until they got back.

Eventually, he heard Jack's car pull up. He gratefully threw down his pencil and got downstairs.

"Alex! We're home!" Jack yelled, and he came outside, just as someone who must have been Emily got out of the passenger's seat.

She had straight, soft-looking reddish-blonde hair, and big, dark blue eyes. It was kind of hard to tell under the hooded sweatshirt, but she looked slim enough. At least she wasn't obese, like so many American teens were.

She stared at him for a long moment, until Alex was sure that she had no manners and decided to introduce himself.

"Hey. I'm Alex," he said, holding out his hand.

--

"Alex! We're home!" Jack yelled, pulling into the driveway and jumping out of the car. I grabbed my bags and got out of the car, steeling myself for what would undoubtedly be the hardest part of my immersion into the world of regular humans.

Forgive me if I sound like an alien or something, but that's just the truth. I am not a regular human. I'm just not.

A teenaged boy walked out of the house, and I stared.

He was cute.

He was cute, with somewhat shaggy blond hair, deep, chocolatey, intelligent brown eyes, and a sort of tired smile.

Wait. Wait just one second.

Shaggy blond hair.

Check.

Brown eyes.

Check.

Pretty cute.

Checkcheckcheckcheckcheckcheckcheck ...

Please, please, please be Alexandra's identical twin brother, I prayed.

He smiled and held out his hand.

"Hey. I'm Alex."

**Haha! Don't you just hate me? Yes, I know you do. Anyway, there's only one way to find out what happens next.**

**WAIT.**

**Although, updating might help to pass the time ... :D**

**I wuvs you all!**

**Shadow**


	4. Teddy Bears and Deadly Sauce Lids

**Alright, people! This chapter is now up!**

**Of course, if it weren't, you wouldn't be reading this ...**

**So -- My thanks to my wonderful reviewers!**

**Asianwannabe13: Misunderstandings are fun! ****I know. They mess him up and make him all emo, and it's kind of sad.**

**Buchworm13: That's the effect I was going for! And you can emit a hyper cackle. If done correctly, it's pretty hilarious.**

**Emmy-loo: Okay. I was wondering if I was straying into the land of the Mary-Sue's, but I wasn't sure. I'm glad I took a right turn into normal-land. BTW, I just figured Em needed an introduction, since we all know Alex, but none of you know Emily except me. I can't promise about the romance thing, since my characters have minds of their own, but I can promise that if it shows up it's in the distant future. Also, I'm not one of those Sabina-haters. Yes, I am jealous. No, I am not going to slander a fictional character. That's just lame. Most of the time. Sometimes it's okay. But only when Sabina goes absolutely INSANE and someone has to knock her out. If she drools, I will put it on my favorites list.**

**JCJF.lover: That's what I was going for. Here's more!**

**Tobi X: Wait no more! The new chapter is here!**

**l8rg8r123: I will do that in future.**

**I know. I just did that this once, to help set the scene. It won't happen again. Don't hurt me!**

**Yes, I did. You're the only one that caught that.**

**I'm glad you're happy. Whoever Nyxelestia is, thanks. I've actually never been flamed. I didn't promise, but I will now.**

**I love long reviews! They make me feel loved and appreciated.**

**Don't you mean it's all _good_?**

**I'm updating now! Soon enough for ya?**

**Goodness, demanding much? ;D**

**loopygirl33: Thanks! Here's my update!**

**Sheluby94dreamer: Indeed it shall.**

**MidnightsRose: Glad we got that cleared up.**

**XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX: Yup, you've lost the plot. Alex does NOT cross-dress in this fic!**

**... ew.**

**--**

**You know, I said I was going to change this and make it a non-romance fic, but whatever. My characters have minds of their own. I write ahead in my chapters, and it's taking a definite romantic leaning. Before that, they're good friends. But first they fight!**

**How high? Nehi!**

**If you know what that means, put it in your review!**

**--**

**Okay, so recap!**

_Please, please be Alexandra's twin brother, I prayed._

_He smiled and held out his hand._

_"Hey. I'm Alex."_

--

ALEX'S POV

Emily stared at him, the blood draining from her face.

"S-seriously?" she choked. "You're Alex?" He stared at her.

"Unless I missed something, yeh. I'm Alex." Surprising everyone, she sank down and sat in the middle of the driveway.

"They sent me to live with a guy," she said faintly, to no one, just staring out into space. Alex shuffled his feet and shot Jack a look that clearly said,

_You didn't tell her?!_

Jack shrugged helplessly.

"I thought she knew!" she hissed quietly. "Then she actually called you _'she'_, and I didn't know what to do!"

Alex bit back a grin at Jack's incredulously indignant, "she actually called you _'she'!_"

A quiet sniffle alerted Alex to the fact that Emily was probably having a nervous breakdown. Her eyes were red, and so was her nose, and she was sniffling again.

Awkwardly, Alex shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Aw, come on. Don't _cry_." Emily pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose.

"I'm _dot_ crying," she said adamantly. She grimaced when the word 'dot' came out, and when she continued spoke slowly and carefully. "I have a _cold_." She shot him a look.

"What?" he asked defensively, surprised at the irritation in her blue eyes.

"I'm stuck staying with a boy. I'm _irritated_. I'm not going to start _crying_!" Alex simply rolled his eyes and held out a hand to help her up.

"Like what you see?" he asked, when she just stared at him silently. Her eyes narrowed into an impressive glare.

"Sorry, but I was just trying to get used to the thought of seeing that across the breakfast table every day for the next month. I really wasn't expecting a boy."

"Terribly sorry, but I wasn't expecting a stuck-up American girl, either. So forgive me if I'm not exactly what you expect in the way of British gallantry." She snorted.

"Oh, really? I'm stuck up, huh? From what I've seen, you're the _picture_ of chivalry," she said, her voice dripping with biting sarcasm. Alex crossed his arms over his chest and sneered at her.

"Look. I wasn't expecting a girl. I don't want you here. In fact, I would be just _thrilled_ if you marched your snooty walking-billboard self right back into the airport and onto a plane to whatever backwater town you're from. Alright?" She crossed her arms over her own chest and sneered right back, mimicking his posture.

"Well, I don't want to be here, either, alright? My sisters are too busy with college to care about their parents' littlest brat, my friends have deserted me, and my folks are so hyped up about their trip to Africa they didn't even check to see if I was staying with a member of the right sex. So forgive me if I'm not the best dinner guest." He rolled his eyes.

"Ah, yes. The typical emo teenager. Why don't you just get over yourself? Or would that cut you out of the line-up for Miss Depression 2009?" She glared at him, her face flushing pink.

"I am _not_ emo!" she insisted. "My life just happens to suck right now. And _you're_ not doing anything to make it better, so _you_ can just _shut_ _up_ and get over yourself!" Alex laughed.

"Get over myself? What makes you think I need to?" Her eyes narrowed again and she looked him up and down critically. Alex felt a shiver run down his spine at the cold way she regarded him, almost as if he'd ceased to be human in her eyes. She walked around in a slow circle, looking him over from all sides, and finally looked right into his eyes.

"Well, first of all, you aren't the most appreciative of hosts. You act like I'm lucky to be here, not like you're lucky to have me. Second, you haven't even asked me if I'm hungry, how my flight went, if my cold is very bad, or about my family. Third, you obviously think you're the best thing to happen to women since ... I don't know what."

"Casanova?" Alex supplied helpfully. Emily glared at him, but kept talking as if he'd never interrupted.

"Fourth, you're insensitive, truculent, and downright rude, and you insulted my hometown, as if it were nothing compared to yours. From what I've seen, London is great. But not as great as Whiteville." She paused and whispered, almost imperceptibly, "I think." She'd said it so quietly, it was obvious to Alex that she hadn't wanted him to hear.

"And you _really_ need to get over yourself." Alex rolled his eyes.

"From what I can see, the only one here with a sky-high opinion of herself is _you_."

Emily uncrossed her arms and sighed.

"Why does everything happen to me?" she moaned, throwing her hands up. "Fine! I give up. Alex, will you be this rude and obnoxious everyday, or is today just special?" Alex grinned.

"Today is very special. I wanted to welcome you. But every day is special when we have a guest in the house." She glared at him, then slung her backpack over her shoulder and picked up her bag.

"I'm going inside," she snapped, but Alex caught the slight catch in her voice and felt a flash of guilt. On impulse, he gently took her bag from her, then removed her backpack and slung it over his own shoulder.

"Here," he said gruffly. "I'll take these." She eyed him warily, almost as if she expected him to dump her bags in the mud.

"One question ..." Alex glanced over at her as they made their way inside the large house.

"Yes?" Emily was avoiding his eyes, taking an exaggerated interest in the house.

"Is Jack really as bad of a cook as she says?" Alex grinned at the swearwords and smell of burning food wafting through the house.

"Worse."

--

I bit back a laugh at the sight of a very frazzled Jack running back and forth between the stove and the sink, cupping water in her hands and trying to put out the fire. Alex had gone to put my stuff upstairs, and I had gone into the kitchen to see about Jack. I quickly grabbed a lid and slammed it down on the pot, knowing that the fire would quickly die without oxygen.

"Remember that," I advised, and began to rummage through the pantry. I was still very angry about fighting with Alex, and losing control enough to almost actually _cry_.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked after a moment.

"Brushing up on my cha-cha. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to find something to eat, because I'm starving." Jack was silent for a long moment.

"... sorry." I slammed the pantry shut.

"Sorry for what? Sorry for ditching me when I needed someone to keep me from ripping his head off? For lying to me so I would make a complete fool of myself and have to pretend I had a cold? Sorry for what? What on _earth_ could you have _possibly_ done to tick me off?" I asked, not turning around. It wasn't really that I was so mad at Jack, although I was. It was that I was mad at myself for reacting like that. Jack sighed.

"Sorry for burning the food and deserting you. And I _didn't_ lie to you." I raised one eyebrow.

"Really? What about when I called him 'she'? You didn't correct me. That counts as lying. It's a lie by omission." Jack rolled her eyes.

"Well then, I'm sorry for that, too." I sighed and gave her a hug.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you that way. It wasn't your fault you wanted to get out of the range of two angry teenagers' fighting. It was actually quite a smart move, all things considered." Jack smiled wryly.

"You don't know the half of it."

--

Alex put Emily's things in the spare room, and turned to leave.

_'London is great. But not as great as Whiteville. I think.'_ The remembered words made him pause. Why wouldn't she know? Maybe she wasn't just an exchange student.

_Scorpia never forgives. Scorpia never forgets._

The words chilled him to the bone. Alex unconsciously rubbed the scar on his chest as he reached for her backpack.

The first thing he unearthed was ... a teddy bear.

Alex pulled back, disgusted with himself. One little comment that could mean anything, and he was taking it so seriously that he deemed it acceptable to go through her backpack! He was being crazy. He should just replace the little bear, zip up her backpack, and go downstairs.

And yet ...

Something about the look in her eyes when she'd looked him up and down had been dangerous, abnormal ... familiar. He'd seen that look in Yassen Gregorovich's eyes, and he'd seen it in Daman Cray's. He'd seen it in the eyes of Mrs. Jones and Alan Blunt. It was the look of a person who was used to pushing gruesomely unpleasant things out of their mind to get the job done.

Sometimes, he'd seen it when he looked in the mirror.

Silently, Alex replaced the stuffed animal, zipped up the backpack, and left the room.

As he made his way downstairs, he noticed the charred smell was gradually being replaced by something much more appetizing. He stopped in the dining room when he heard Jack and Emily talking.

"So ... how's Alex in school?" Emily asked. Apparently, it was random question hour.

"He's got a lot of make-up work to do, so he might not have too much time to show you around," Jack said.

"Mmm. How's the chicken doing?"

"It looks good. Is it done?" It must have been Emily laughing; Jack's laugh was boyish and exuberant, but this was like ringing bells.

"When it looks like this, you need to flip it. Wow. You really weren't exaggerating when you said you couldn't cook."

Alex stuck his head inside the kitchen door and smiled.

Emily had somehow found an apron and put it on, and she was now running back and forth across the kitchen with a comical look of busy panic on her face.

"Jack? Could you get the strainer out?" Emily asked, pulling a smoking pot off the stove. Jack quickly pulled the strainer out, and Emily dumped the contents of the pot (boiling water and pasta, if you wanted to know) into the strainer.

"Wait -- there's supposed to be water left when the pasta's done?" Alex asked, genuinely confused. Emily jumped about three feet in the air and put a hand to her chest.

"Alex, make more noise when you come downstairs!" she said crossly.

"Is it my fault you're deaf?" he asked, but smiled to take the bite out of the words. He still felt a bit guilty about making her cry. She grinned at him.

"You yell so loudly I'm never going to hear normally ever again. And, yes, there's supposed to be water left in the pot when the pasta's done." Her brow creased in confusion.

"Why?"

"Okay, I'm a _really_ awful cook," Jack said, laughing. Emily grinned and patted her on the head.

"It's okay, Jack. It could be worse. I think." Those two words reminded Alex of his suspicions, but he angrily pushed them out of his mind.

_She's a KID. And she's American. The American's don't use children. But ... what if it isn't CIA?_ He shook the thought off and concentrated on the scene in frone of him. Emily was running about the kitchen like a thing possessed, obviously looking for something.

"What did you do with the pasta sauce, Jack?!" Emily finally asked, her voice beginning to verge on hysterical. Jack pulled the sauce out of her apron pocket.

"Knew I left it somewhere odd ..." Emily rolled her eyes and took the sauce, twisting the cap off with practiced ease.

"If you want to save the lid, you can use it as a deadly weapon," she commented, pouring the pasta and the sauce into the bowl and handing Jack a spatula.

"Here. You mix the sauce and the pasta together, and I'll slice the chicken. I have a feeling we should keep you away from knives." Jack scowled melodramatically and began stirring the pasta.

"Fancy-shmancy American girl thinks she can come into my kitchen and order me around," she grumbled. Emily raised one eyebrow.

"Excuse me? Did you just say 'fancy-shmancy _American _girl'? So, what, the term doesn't apply to you anymore?" Jack rolled her eyes.

"_And _she has to be all 'grammatically correct' ... Wait. I have to stay away from the knives, but I don't have to stay away from the deadly pasta lid?" Emily shrugged.

"Do you even know how to use it as a deadly weapon?" Jack snatched up the lit and examined it, then turned and awkwardly began smacking Alex on the head with it.

"If I do this enough times, he will die," she intoned solemnly.

"Of boredom," Alex muttered under his breath. Emily snickered.

"Sure, Jack. That's how it works. Some practice, and you'll be lethal." She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in it. If Alex hadn't been trained to see that sort of thing, he probably wouldn't even have noticed at all.

Alex wanted to ask what was wrong, but then thought the better of it. If she really did have something to hide, it would be best not to put her on her guard. It would be best to let her underestimate him, like they all had. With a sigh of disgust -- he shouldn't even _have_ to think this much about asking if someone was okay -- he took the lid away from Jack and began to set the table.

"Here, I'll help," Emily said, taking the silverware and the napkins. "I'll get this, you get the icewater." He smiled at her attempt to make peace.

"Deal."

**Okay, I know, sort of mindless fluff at the end.**

**Attention! It's time for some reader feedback!**

**Alex gets landed in the hospital. We're just stuck with that, okay? No changing it. The question I'm asking you to answer is:**

**Should Sabina show up before Alex gets out of the hospital, or after?**

**Either way, she and Em don't get in a huge, destroy-Alex-Rider's-house fight. Alas and alack, it's just not meant to be.**

**I love happy bunnies, and so can you!**

**Shadow**


	5. Demon Helicopter From Beyond the Grave

**Hey peeps!**

**To all of my wonderful reviewers, whether current, past, or future-ary (if that isn't a word, then it should be), thank you! I feel so loved.**

**So ... feedback!**

**Asianwannabe13: Terribly sorry, but Em has some measure of self-control. She might vandalize Sab's house in the middle of the night, though ...**

**sheluby94dreamer: That's a pretty good idea! I'll think about that, and probably use some of it in my story. I love it when people are helpful like that!**

**loopygirl33: Your comment brightened my day. Thank you!**

**XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX: Yah, there's lots more to wreck in a hospital! Alex probably knows his local one like the back of his hand. I wouldn't be depressed. I'd be MAJORLY depressed. I can't imagine life without my mom, let alone life without my entire family and being ruthlessly used by my government without so much as a by-your-leave. It would be sad.**

**phantomviola: Don't worry, I won't! I think most hate is unnatural. Except hate of spiders. I found one crawling on me over labor-day weekend. GAAAAAAAH! I freaked, but only after I flicked it into the lake. See, I didn't want to get bitten and die. Of course, if I'd gotten bitten and turned into Spiderman (or Spiderwoman, rather) I might have eventually come to grips with it. No, you didn't miss anything. I just haven't gotten to that part yet.**

**TO THE GENERAL PUBLIC:**

**I willingly admit, I'm an American. I like America. I live in a flyover state. I don't have a comprehensive knowledge of British popular culture. So if I make some heinous mistake, please forgive me! It's hard enough having to plan the dialogue with British accents. Really!**

**WARNING:**

**There may be more than a little fluff in the coming chapters. You see, I really have to build their friendship, since they got off to a rocky start. However, since they're both basically good people, this won't take long. Then I can get on with getting Alex hit by a bus!**

Alex wasn't quite sure what woke him up, but when he opened his eyes it was pitch-black, except for the velvety blue square of sky that was his window. Slowly, as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he could make out the familiar features of his desk, his computer, his dresser.

Suddenly, the light was temporarily blocked out, by someone passing between his window and his bed. The figure moved silently, easily, possibly aware that Alex was awake.

He slowly eased out of bed and approached the figure, whose back was to him. They were rummaging through his desk.

"Alex, where _do_ you put your pencils and pens? I can't find them to save my life," Emily said suddenly, without turning around.

"In the top drawer," Alex answered, too surprised to question what she wanted with his pencils and pens. There was a soft slapping sound, and Emily turned, her hand covering her eyes.

"I'm so smart." She took a fistful of pencils out of the drawer, then opened the door to leave.

"Wait!" Alex called. Emily turned and waited.

"What -- why --" he spluttered, unsure of how to say what he meant. Emily smiled.

"I'll see you in the morning, Alex," she said. "In the meantime, think on this. Isn't it wierd, the odd dreams people have?" And then she seemed to vanish, and although Alex knew she must have simply stepped into the hallway it unnerved him that she moved so quietly. He shook his head and got back under the sheets. Although his head was far from clear, he knew that this had been no dream.

--

"Morning, Alex!" Emily said brightly when he stumbled into the kitchen. He glared at her.

"It's too early to be cheerful," he muttered, but she only laughed.

"Be happy, Alex! Tomorrow I start school!" He raised his eyebrows.

"Wait ... You're starting at Brookland Prep tomorrow ... and you're actually _happy_?" Her eyes narrowed again, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Alex, that sort of talk is disheartening and probably misleading. When you say it like that, I'm going to expect carnivorous monsters to pop out of the walls and eat me tomorrow. It will be fine. I will live. If I have to, I will forgo my dignity completely and try to blend by using a British accent. I can pull it off."

"Somehow, I seriously doubt that," Alex mumbled, as Emily poured herself a bowl of cereal and got a spoon. But she heard him, nonetheless.

"You don't believe me?" Emily asked, pretending to be offended. Alex grinned.

"No." She rolled her eyes.

"Fine. I will prove you wrong. On Monday, I'll stay in character all day, you ask people where they think I'm from, and at the end of the day we compare notes. And no telling all your friends about this in advance." Alex sighed.

"And my innumerable companions will make such a dent in Brookland Prep's gullible population," Alex said sarcastically, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Emily winced.

"Sorry. Is that a sore subject?" she asked apologetically, but Alex just shrugged.

"It's no big deal," Alex insisted with a scowl. Of course, he just _had_ to say it. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course. Whatever you say." They sat in silence for a long moment, eating their cereal, until finally Emily let out an explosive sigh and set down her spoon with a clatter.

"I'm sorry, but I'm really curious!" she said and Alex laughed. Emily apparently took that as permission to ask again. "So tell me. Does the entire school think you're pariah, or something?"

"No ... but they do think I'm on drugs," he admitted. Emily stared at him for a long moment.

"You're kidding me."

"Nope." Her blue eyes widened until they were almost as big as the bowl of her cereal spoon.

_"Seriously_? They actually think you're on drugs?_" _Alex nodded, and Emily burst into musical, hysterical laughter.

"Hahaha ... I'm sorry, but ... haha ... you ... on _drugs_? Hahahahaha!" She was laughing so hard her shoulders were shaking, and Alex had to laugh, too; if not at the fact that his yearmates though he was a druggie, then at least at the fact that Emily found it funny enough to laugh 'till she cried.

"On drugs," she repeated with a sneer, once she'd controlled herself. "You? On drugs? Psh. Are they morons? Is this a school for 'special' children? Oh wait. If it was a school for special children, then you ..." she trailed off, blushing pink. Alex laughed to himself, but pretended to be insulted.

"Oh, so now you think I'm a moron, do you?" he asked. Emily shrugged.

"Well, you did seem to buy it when I told you it was all a dream last night."

"You never said it."

"I _implied_ it. Much more subtle. You should try it sometime. Subtlety, I mean." He shrugged and turned away.

"By the way ... what exactly were you _doing_?"

Emily smiled secretively.

"Wait ... you actually expect me to tell you? Dream on." She laughed and flicked a cornflake at him. Alex sighed.

"What do I get when no one buys it?"

"Your choice," she said. "Sky's the limit. Same conditions on my end." He held out his hand, and she took it, feeling the rough callouses of his fingers scraping against hers. Actually, the sensation was not altogether unpleasant.

"Deal."

--

"Alex! What in the world is this thing?!" Emily shrieked, running around the house as Tom's new remote-control helicopter chased her around the house. Alex laughed at the look of abject terror on her face. True, Tom had somehow managed to attach a semitransparent sheet to the helicopter, so that a sheer white _thing_ seemed to be floating about the house, following her. But still. It was a _toy_. Emily looked like she was about to have a nervous breakdown.

"Alex make it stop following me!" she pleaded, jumping over the couch with surprising agility.

"Okay. Tom, you'd better stop it," Alex called. The helicopter seemed to waver for a moment, then died and fell to the ground with a muffled _thud_. Emily stared at it incredulously, then hesitantly made her way over to it and picked it up.

_"What_,_"_ she asked venemously, "is_ this_?" Alex did his best to stifle a chuckle, but he failed.

"It's Tom's toy helicopter," he snickered. Emily's face flushed dark pink.

"I was nearly reduced to _tears_ by a _toy_?" she muttered to herself. Alex's jaw dropped.

"Tears? I'm really sorry, Em, I didn't know you were about to _cry_ ..." he began, but trailed off when he saw how angry Em obviously was.

"I can't _believe_ you two!" she said incredulously, then turned and ran upstairs. A moment later, he heard her door slamming.

"What did you do?" Jack asked, leaning against the doorframe. Alex jumped. He hadn't known she'd returned from grocery shopping.

"Jack! You're back ..." he said, then realized how incredibly stupid that sounded. Apparently, Jack did to.

"Yes, Mr. Intelligent, I'm back. What did you do to Emily?" Tom came down the stairs and froze when he caught sight of Jack, her icy stare a sharp contrast to her fiery red hair.

"Um ... hi, Jack! We were just ... um ..."

"Playing a prank on Emily," Alex finished miserably, when it became clear that Tom was too ashamed to own up.

"I see." For once, Jack was perfect in the part of disapproving parent. "Alex, I suggest you and Tom go up to apologize. Whatever you did, you obviously upset her."

"That's putting it lightly," Tom muttered, finally coherent.

"Why? What happened?" Jack asked.

"She called me an idiot and an unfeeling moron, and then she slapped me," he explained cheerfully, pointing out the darkening red spot on his cheek. Alex made a face.

"Then maybe you should stay downstairs." Tom nodded, relieved, and Alex hesitantly approached the stairwell.

"Emily?" he called, softly knocking on her door. "Emily, are you okay?"

"Please go away." Although the voice was muffled from traveling through the door, it was most definitely hers.

"Em, please open the door," Alex pleaded, surprising himself. He felt honestly, surprisingly guilty about frightening her so badly. What he really wanted to do was make amends. But it sounded like Emily wasn't in the mood to forgive and forget.

"I'd really prefer to be alone right now, Alex. Please tell Tom I'm sorry that I slapped him. It was uncalled for. I apologize for my angry outburst. It won't happen again. I'll be down in time for dinner, so please go away." Alex gritted his teeth. She sounded so cool and collected, but no one could really _be_ that cool so soon after being humiliated that way.

"Not until you come out here," he argued. There was silence for a long moment, then the door creaked open and Emily's strawberry-blonde head appeared, dark blue eyes regarding him icily.

"There. I came out here. Now, will you _please_ go away, or at least leave me alone? I'm doing homework."

"Only your head's out here," Alex pointed out smugly. "The rest of you has to come, too." She rolled her eyes and stepped out into the hall, hands on her hips.

"There. Now, is there anything else, anything _important_ I need to do to garner your approval? Or can I get back to my life now?" Alex sighed.

"You have to let me apologize. You have to hear me out." Emily crossed her arms over her chest and sighed impatiently."

"Well? Get on with it!" she said impatiently, and Alex realized she was waiting for him to apologize.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, taken by surprise. Emily laughed.

"Here I was, waiting for some eloquent speech of apology, and that's all I get!" Alex laughed, too, thinking she had forgiven him.

"Oi! Alex? I'm leaving!" Tom called up the stairs. Emily turned Alex around and gave him a little shove toward the stairs.

"Well? Go say goodbye to Tom. Now!" Alex ran downstairs and said goodbye to Tom, relayed Emily's apology, and removed the sheet from the helicopter. When he came back upstairs, Emily was back in her room. Her door was locked.

"Don't try anything like you did last time!" she yelled, when Alex knocked. "I don't want to talk to you, and I'm busy. Go away, _please_!" With a sigh, Alex left.

Emily didn't come down for dinner.

--

"Morning," I muttered, slouching into my seat.

"Morning," Alex muttered, shrinking even further into his and staring at his toast as if it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"So ... what time is it?" I asked, pouring myself a glass of milk. I had a nasty feeling I'd overslept, but I was hoping that I was wrong. He checked his watch as I took a sip of my milk. Gotta have my calcium.

"Seven forty-three." I choked on my milk.

"_Seven forty-three_?!" I shrieked. "Hurry! We have to go now! We'll be late! Oh, I just _knew_ I overslept," I moaned. I finished my milk in record time, brushed my hair at lightning speed, and grabbed our backpacks.

"What's your hurry?" Alex asked languidly. I paused.

"Um ... I ... I, well, y'know, I wanna talk to the teachers and get situated and everything," I muttered, feeling my face flush red. Alex eyed me suspiciously for a moment, and I made eye contact, willing him to believe that my red face was simply because I was embarrassed about oversleeping.

"Okay, whatever," he said finally, taking his backpack out of my hand. "Let's go, then." With an inaudible sigh of relief, I slung my own backpack over my shoulder and got on my bike.

"So ... what do you have first hour?" I asked as we pedaled out of the driveway.

"English."

"And then?"

"Maths"

"And after that?" I pressed.

"History. Then AP Chem. After that I have Drama, then lunch. After lunch there's Statistics and Study Hall, and then we go home, since I got cut from the football team." I nodded and memorized the schedule. If I knew the building from those diagrams the way I thought I did, then I would be doing some running.

--

Alex casually opened his notebook, started, and then began pawing frantically through the papers. Where was it? Where _was_ it? He was supposed to hand it in today; the rough draft of an essay he'd completely missed was due today.

"Alex, come up to the front please," Mrs. Phillips said gently, killing any hope that he might have forgotten. He sighed and made his way up to her desk.

"Look, Mrs. Phillips, about the essay--" Alex began, but the teacher cut him off.

"Alex, the essay is fantastic!" she raved.

"Huh?"

"I only expected a rough draft, not the final copy! And it's so well-written, considering that you were absent when we discussed everything. I don't see how I could give you anything less than an A. This is wonderful work." Alex nodded dumbly and went back to his seat. For the rest of the class he only half paid attention, trying to muddle out what on earth had happened. Had he finished the paper and handed it in, and then merely forgotten? No, he remembered putting the rough draft in his folder just before Jack arrived with Emily.

"What's up? You've been scowling at your desk all hour," Tom asked. Alex shrugged.

"It's nothing. Just one of those little school things. It's nothing." Tom shrugged and went off to his locker. Alex did the same with a sigh.

Next up was Maths. If only a mysterious angel would do _that_ make-up work for him.

"Alex!" Mr. Finch said cheerfully as soon as he caught sight of the boy. "Thank you for handing in your make-up work so early!"

--

"Hey! You're new around here. I'm Peter Hollis," the boy said, grinning at me. I smiled at him.

"Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Emily," I said in my British accent, and shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you Emily. Are you sitting all alone?" he asked, gesturing to the empty lunch table.

"So it would appear."

"May I join you?" I shrugged.

"If you like." He sat.

"I do like. So, Emily, why are you starting at semester, instead of starting in the fall like the rest of us?" I did my best to smile at him.

"I travel a lot with my dad, and this once I couldn't go with him. So he enrolled me here, and I'm living with a family friend until he gets back." His grin widened.

"A family friend? Who?" I smiled innocently.

"Alex Rider. D'you know him?" He scowled.

"An innocent girl like you, staying with a druggie like him? He's a bad egg, Em, it isn't safe." I frowned at him.

"Of course it's safe! Alex has never been on drugs in his life. I know him. I've known him forever. He's not a druggie." Peter leaned forward.

"But, y'know, he's been absent an awful lot lately, and no one knows why."

"Sick, I expect," I said quietly. "You know, losing his uncle was such an awful shock that I'll bet it destroyed his immune system. Any little bug going around, he'll catch it. I would, too, if my dad died suddenly." He looked unsure of himself.

"Do you really think so? I suppose that would make sense ..." He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"Anyway, what'd you think of that assignment Mrs. Phillips gave us in English?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. He groaned commiseratively.

"Awful! Memorize a poem and recite it next week? I'll never find one short enough in time!" I frowned thoughtfully.

"Actually, I thought it was a very good assignment, but whatever." He eyed me as if I'd gone crazy.

"Well, I'd better be going. See you around!" he said, then got up from the lunch table and left. I sighed and waited for Alex.

--

"So how was school?" Jack asked when she caught sight of Alex and Emily. Em shrugged.

"It was okay. People, places, classes, fake British accents, nothing new." Jack paused for a moment, then shrugged and poured herself a glass of water.

"Alex, what about you?" Alex cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Um, well ... actually, I'm all caught up in my schoolwork," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic, when all he was, really, was baffled. Jack beamed.

"Really? You're all caught up? Alex, that's fabulous! I didn't expect anything like that for weeks yet! That's wonderful!" Alex coughed self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Actually ... well, I didn't do the work, really. I just walked into the classroom and the teacher was there telling me how proud they were that I was all caught up so quickly. It was a freaky day." He noticed that Emily was biting her lip frantically, almost as if she were trying to get his attention. he simply raised his eyebrows slightly, but it was apparently enough for her.

"Hey, Alex? If you have yearbooks in England, can I borrow your old one? I want to get some names and faces down, if at all possible." Alex nodded, and Emily grabbed him by the wrist and forcibly dragged him from the room. For an American girl, she was quite strong.

"Aleeeex! You're not supposed to tell anyone!" she whined. "You could get in major trouble for me helping you, if anyone found out!" Alex's eyebrows shot up.

"You did my make-up work for me." She flipped her hair over her shoulder in one fluid, graceful movement.

"Of course. It was the least I could do after being such a jerk." One corner of Alex's mouth tipped upward in a wry smile.

"Well, I'm pretty sure it's not the _least_ you could do, but ..." Emily bit her lip nervously.

"I think I'll go swear Jack to secrecy now," she muttered, and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Alex demanded, and caught her arm. She turned to face him, and Alex had a little trouble remembering what he wanted to say.

"Thanks," he finally muttered. Emily smiled at him.

"No problem." She returned to the kitchen, and Alex went up to his room.

Why, oh _why_ did they have to stick him with _her_?

**So yah. Em felt guilty about being rude to Alex and Tom, so she did Alex's make-up work for him, which was also why she was looking for pencils at three in the morning.**

**Now, if only I can think of some way to make it up to Tom ... Unfortunately, it is rather late, and so I will rely heavily on any and all ideas from my wonderful reviewers.**

**I've actually got a little file on word, saying what you're screenname is and how many times you've reviewed. Well, not you _specifically_, but you get the idea.**

**You've got a very special place of honor in my file. It's the only nonfiction work in there.**

**I love Red Pandas!**

**I also love chocolate and apples, as well as good nectarines. If you think this is random, you obviously don't know my friend.**

**Talk to you later, Cyber-Friends!**

**Shadow**


	6. Trust?

**XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX: The bus is coming. Patience, grasshopper. Have you ever torched a bus? It's not nearly as fun as it looks. It's much more fun to pack it full of C-4! Not that I speak from experience, or anything ...  
****A day out? Like what? Riding bikes and going to the movies and saving the world? Oh wait. This is Tom. Not Alex. The saving the world part will have to wait a bit. sigh**

**sheluby94dreamer: I'm sorry you broke your hand! Thank you for taking the time to review even with a broken hand!  
That's a really good idea, actually ... you seem to have a lot of good ideas. :D  
Girl power!  
By the way, I'm dreadfully curious. How did your hand become broken and incased in plaster? (Or a splint thingy. Or ... what is it called? A brace, I think. I had one, but I can't remember.)**

**Geranium: Hey! I won the spelling bee on geranium! (the other girl mispelled it. Sad.)  
I'd love to write a new chapter every day, but I don't know if I could. I have too much homework, since I'm in all honors and AP. I'm even in smart-people computers, which just means we have to do more busywork. WHAT HAPPENED TO BLOWOFF CLASSES??  
So ... updating every day might not be that much of a possibility. Alas and alack. Now fade to black.  
Sorry 'bout that. My friends and I have tons of corny sayings like that.**

**phantomviola: That's part of the suspense. Deal with it.  
Yah, they bought it hook, line, and sinker. (Forgive me if that's a hick-ish phrase. It's just my upbringing, okay?) They totally believed the story.  
Sabina hasn't shown up yet because I'm trying to save it for maximum dramatic effect.  
She's technically in America at the moment, but we shall see what we shall see.  
Of course I was serious about him getting hit by a bus! That's going to be one of the most fun parts to write!  
The question is, was it an accident?**

**loopygirl33: You. Are. My. New. Best. Friend. EVER.  
I'm glad you like this story. It makes me happy that you do.  
Chocolate is the best thing in the world.  
I have a pool! We have races, whenever my sister isn't too lazy.  
fanfiction is wunnerful.  
Ditto ice cream.  
Red Pandas are so cute!!  
****Have you ever had Harry and David pears? They're SO GOOD. It's almost disgusting how good they are.  
You said ice cream twice. Not that I blame you or anything. Ice cream is most definitely awesome enough to merit being listed twice.  
Well, here's my update. Hope you like it.  
Thank You! I'm glad that you like it.  
You're my cyber-bff, loopy!**

**Has anyone else read 'A List Of Sarcastic Sayings,' by l8rg8r123? It's funny! I especially like chapter 7.**

**Eagle: Let's play for it - rock, paper, scissors.  
Wolf: -chooses rock-  
Eagle: -chooses paper- I win.  
Wolf: -punches Eagle in the face- Sorry, I thought paper would protect you  
Fox: I chose chainsaw.**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

"Alex! Alex, wake up! Wake up, it's seven forty-five. For once, I'm not the one to oversleep ... Wake up!" Alex groaned and rolled over.

"Five more minutes ..." he mumbled into his pillow. Emily pulled the blankets off and tossed a pair of khaki pants at him.

"You got _forty-five_ more minutes. Now get up!" He fumbled for the pants and put them on, then donned the white oxford shirt she threw at him. He was midway through tying his tie when he realized that Emily had walked into his room when he'd been dressed in his pajamas, nothing more than a t-shirt and boxer shorts. He blushed embarrassedly and began to stutter an apology, but Emily just tossed him his blazer and cut him off with a crisp,

"Don't be silly. We don't have time for that sort of thing, anyway. And it's not like anything really awkward happened. I had enough presence of mind to throw you your pants first." Alex blushed even more at this last comment, but didn't respond, instead tying his tie and shrugging on his blazer.

"So, any more unexpected surprises waiting for me today?" he asked, grabbing two apples and tossing her one. She caught it in her teeth, surprisingly enough, but took it out once she'd finished packing her backpack.

"Nope. That was it. I still need to find a way to be nice to Tom, though. After all, I did slap him ..." She paused, in spite of the time crunch, and looked forlornly at the apple.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at this sort of thing. Making it up to people when I've done something I regret, I mean,"

"Well, it seems to me that you did a pretty good job last time," Alex commented. Emily shrugged.

"That was easy. You needed help, and I didn't want you to flunk," she said.

"Of course you didn't want me to flunk. You're my friend," Alex said. This was the most obvious thing in the world. Sure, they fought, but she didn't care about his suspicious absences, she just liked being with him, apparently. At this point, Alex couldn't be too picky about his friend qualifications.

Emily's face lit up.

"Really?"

"Really what?" Alex asked, somewhat puzzled.

"I'm really your friend?" Alex stared at her.

"Of course you're my friend, you nitwit. Now come on, or we're going to be late for school." Emily gave a little skip of happiness, and ran out the door. Alex rolled his eyes and followed her.

"Wierdo!" he called after her, but Emily just laughed.

--

Alex said I was his friend! I have a friend!

Okay, I know that kind of counts as overreacting, but come on! This was special!

A _friend_.

I froze in my tracks, the horrible memories washing over me like ten-ton waves.

Alex was my friend now. I had to do something about this potentially dangerous situation, because I cared about him.

Yes, I wanted to be his friend. Yes, I wanted to tell him everything, to let him in, to have someone that I could just talk to, but I couldn't. I had to push him away. It was for the best. All I could do was pray that I'd done it soon enough.

"We should go," I mumbled as my only response to his inquisitive look.

"Right. I'm the one who overslept, and you're the one acting half-awake. Role reversal necessary." I blinked twice, and willed myself to snap out of it.

"I'm okay now," I said, forcing a cheerful smile. He nodded, but still eyed me suspiciously.

"By the way, that was a lot of makeup work," I said as we got our bikes, just making conversation. "And that Peter boy said that you'd been absent a lot. I said something about your weakened immune system, and I know you're not into drugs or anything illegal, but ..." I trailed off and paused again.

"Alex, are you really sick that much?" I asked quietly. He looked into my eyes searchingly. I contrived to keep my gaze as innocently curious as possible.

His chocolatey brown eyes made me want to forget MI6, CIA, and everything else, but I had to concentrate.

"Yes," he said simply. We got on our bicycles and headed to school in silence.

--

Alex glanced at Emily out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at the handlebars of her bike intently, an almost pained expression on her face.

"You okay?" he asked gently. She jumped and flashed him a smile.

"Yeah, just ... distracted. I'll be fine." He nodded once, but didn't quite believe her. She blew a strand of reddish-gold hair out of her eyes.

"I hate having my hair in my eyes," she grumbled. He smiled.

"You have beautiful hair," he told her sincerely.

It came out before he realized what he'd said, and he felt himself blushing when she turned and stared at him. To his surprise, she didn't look pleased, or even embarrassed. She just looked ... sad, to tell the truth.

"Thanks," she said softly. Alex simply nodded.

"Anytime."

--

I bit back tears as we locked out bikes and entered the building. Alex had just said my hair was pretty.

Wrong. He'd said _Emily'_s hair was pretty. My hair was longer, and curly, and dark brown. It just reminded me again that I was hiding from him. I was hiding everything from him.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"What if my hair wasn't red?" He raised his eyebrows.

"But it is red," he pointed out.

"But if it _wasn't_," I persisted. He shrugged.

"Then ... well, what if your hair wasn't red? Then what?" I paused.

_Then what?_

How was I supposed to answer that? What was I supposed to say, _Would you still think my hair was pretty?_

Actually, I _was_ curious ...

But that was ridiculous. If my hair wasn't red, then my eyes wouldn't be blue, and my name wouldn't be Emily, and I wouldn't have any of the things Emily had.

And I wouldn't know Alex Rider.

But ... if my hair wasn't red and I _did_ know Alex Rider ... then he would know. And I would hate that.

I pushed away the sudden, insane urge to confide in him, and frowned at him sadly.

"Never mind; it's nothing," I mumbled, pushing past him. A quick glance over my shoulder showed Alex standing in the middle of the hallway, staring after me in obvious bafflement.

--

Alex shook his head, puzzled. What on earth was she driving at?

_What if my hair wasn't red?_

_But it is red._

_But if it wasn't__?_

_Then ... well, what if you're hair wasn't red? Then what?_

_She paused and gave him a long, sad look._

_Never mind; it's nothing._

The sight of her hurrying off, biting her lip and frowning to herself ... well, he didn't like it. He didn't like it that she looked like she was about to cry.

_What if my hair wasn't red?_

What was she hiding? What was it that she was trying to tell him?

"Alex, get to class! You don't want to be late," Miss Bedfordshire called. Alex nodded with a smile and made his way to his locker. He would ask Emily about it later. He would get an answer out of her. He knew he would.

--

"Hey, who's that?" a girl asked. I looked in the direction she was pointing and raised one eyebrow.

"That's Alex Rider. Why?" I asked, a feeling of uneasiness growing in the pit of my stomach. She was looking at him like he was ... I don't know, something to eat, almost. It was kind of unnerving.

"He's cute." I shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"You could say that, I guess. He's an awful cook, though." The whole group swerved around and stared at me.

"You _know_ him?" one girl asked.

"And you've seen him cook?!" another squealed. I shrugged uncomfortably.

"Um ... yeah. His repertoire is limited to cereal and omelettes. And he's messed up on cereal before. It's kind of sad, but very entertaining." I grinned to myself, remembering Alex running around the kitchen and swearing because I'd replaced the sugar with baking soda, and then dared him to eat his cereal with vinegar instead of milk.

_'You can add sugar if you want to,' I said, shooting him an innocent smile. He smiled thankfully and dumped a huge load of 'sugar' onto his bowl of cereal._

_'Bon appetit!' I laughed. He poured some vineger into the mix, and I laughed even harder at the sight of his eyes rounding at the chemical reaction transpiring in his breakfast._

_'!#' he yelled, and ran towards the sink._

_'Aren't you forgetting something?' I asked, amused. He spun around wildly._

_'What?' I rolled my eyes._

_'I dunno, maybe the cereal bowl?'_

"Heloooo! Earth to Emily? We've got to get to class," Hanna said, waving a hand in front of my face. I smiled at her.

"Right. Sorry. Just sort of ... zoned out."

--

"Hey, Em ... I was wondering, do you want to get some fresh air?" Alex asked randomly, as he waltzed into my room. I grinned and closed my book.

"Love to. Let's go!"

NO!

I forgot, AGAIN, that I'm not supposed to just enjoy Alex's company! Walls! Walls! Walls are important and happy and good and ...

And a breath of fresh air doesn't sound too bad.

I shook my head sharply and grabbed my jacket.

"What's that?" I asked, confused, when I caught sight of Alex sticking a basket into the little carry-thingy stuck to the front of my bike.

**(A/N: What _are_ those things called?)**

"It's a basket," Alex said blandly. I rolled my eyes.

"I _know_ that, Captain Unnecessary Information, what I _want_ to know is what's _in_ the basket." He grinned.

"Food. Cutlery. Napkins. I thought we might get hungry." I couldn't help but grin back.

"Smart move. Let's go." I ignored the fact that he'd said step out for a breath of fresh air, and then gotten out our bikes. Whatever Alex had planned, I trusted him.

_What?!_

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

I trusted him. I _trusted_ him. It always started out like this._ Always_.

Then I would convince myself that I could do this. It wouldn't happen again. I was older now. Stronger. It would be okay.

Then I would freak out.

Who was I kidding? I was just some punk kid. I couldn't do this.

Then I wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry, but I never did. I was too strong for that. I had to be.

Then I decided to believe that I could do this, and try again.

But could I do that to him? Could I do that, knowing what had always happened before?

"Let's get going," I said with a sigh, pulling my hair into a ponytail and getting on my bike.

"Lead on, brave one!" I cried melodramatically, hoping to cheer myself up by being silly. Alex lauged, and suddenly I _did_ feel better.

No. No. I couldn't do this again. I couldn't bear for ... that ... to happen. It would kill me, I was sure.

"So where did you say we were going?" I asked quietly. Alex grinned.

"Not going to spill. I can keep a secret." I put a hand to my chest, feigning offense.

"Oh, and I can't? _Thanks_."

He was looking at me funny. Self-conscious, I put my hand back on the handlebar and concentrated on pedaling.

"Here we are!" Alex said cheerfully, turning into some little out of the way park. I smiled and slipped in after him, enjoying the shade of the old oak trees. We rode about for a bit longer, looking for a nice spot to have our snack, and finally stopped in a little clearing.

"This place is pretty nice," I said appreciatively, feeling the cool grass underfoot. I looked down at my feet embarrassedly.

"I forgot shoes."

**Well, that was Chapter 5! Or 6. Depending on if you count the prologue as a chapter or not.**

**So ... I just wanted to let you know (a sort of spoiler-type thing, but I know you all have been looking forward to this.):**

**THE BUS WILL MAKE ITS APPEARANCE IN CHAPTER SEVEN.**

**AND, it gets blown up!**

**But Sabina doesn't show up 'til Chapter Eight. Or maybe Nine. I haven't decided yet.**

**But the bus is set!**

**Luv y'all,**

**Shadow**


	7. Fudge Doesn't Always Work

**Chapter 7/8: a.k.a.: THE BUS.**

**Yay! It's finally HERE! The bus! And, here you get to witness (well ... sort of witness ...) the awesome power of superconcentrated C4 and nitroglycerine. Or something compact and highly volatile.**

**Saynt Jimmy: Yup. Serious skillage.**

**sheluny94dreamer: Wow. I had no idea softball was so ... violent. When I played it was much more innocent and injury free. Ouch.  
Anyway, yeah. She's got a reason to be so stupid about being Alex's friend, though. We'll delve more deeply into that later.**

**Buchworm13: But then you wouldn't have a bus! And I would be out of C4 ...**

**alexriderfreak: YAY! You sound as hyperactive as me!**

**XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX: Well, now you don't HAVE to wait. It's here! And it explodes ... :D**

**loopygirl33: Yeah; whatever ...  
I'm glad you like my chappie. I'l try to update as soon as possible.  
It's kind of hard to get used to wierd things. Like people reading what I write. However, I think I could stand this, in time ... XD.**

**ANYWAY ...**

**I'm just KILLED by homework lately, so I might not be able to update for a while.**

**In the meantime, I LIKE REVIEWS. So I'd appreciate it if you sent me some. Many, many thanks to everybody who has reviewed faithfully.**

**Random fact of the day:**

**stewardesses is the longest word you can type with one hand.**

**Luv u!**

**Shadow**

Despite his best efforts, Alex let out an ungentlemanly snort of laughter.

"Nice," he muttered. Emily bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Hungry?" he asked, to change the subject. Emily nodded cheerfully.

"Famished! Which is odd, considering that we were only riding for about ten minutes, but oh, well. What's on the menu?" Alex shrugged.

"Dunno. I just threw a bunch of random items into the basket. I hope they're all edible." Emily laughed out loud.

"One would hope, considering this is a picnic." Alex flashed her a quick grin and began rummaging through the basket, pausing every now and again to flick the hair out of his eyes. Emily reached over and quietly brushed it away from his face, surprising him.

"There. That takes care of the problem." He grinned at her again, and her returning smile brought his heart into his mouth. He busied himself with the basket to keep his mind off of certain distracting things.

"Hmm ... cold chicken from Saturday night, apples, soda, sandwiches, chips, a flashlight ... that's about it, I think. Nope! Here's some fudge." Emily lay back in the grass.

"Fudge? Alex, you're my hero." He laughed.

"Well, you're easily pleased," he muttered. Emily rolled over and sent him another dazzling smile.

"Aww, come on. It's fudge, Alex! Besides ... I think you're my hero anyway. You're definitely my best friend." Alex grinned, willfully ignoring the alarms going off in his head.

_American. Civilian. Innocent. Ignorant. Emily!_

He shook off the feeling of uneasiness and tossed her a package of dark chocolate fudge.

"So ... Jack thinks you don't like her," Alex said conversationally, taking a sip of his soda. He mentally chided himself for trying to butter her up with the fudge. Really, she was a sucker for sweets, so it wasn't exactly fair to manipulate her like this. But how else was he going to get it out of her? Beat it out of her? Not likely. Alex wasn't going to start beating up innocent civilians anytime soon.

Emily sat straight up and her eyes flew open so wide it looked as if someone had stabbed her in the back with a pencil.

"I do like her!" she insisted. "Really, I do!"

"Then why do you keep pushing her away?" he demanded, beginning to lose his temper. "And it's not just Jack, either. You do it to me, too, and you say I'm your best friend. If you really liked us, you wouldn't do this."

He wasn't really sure why he cared so much, all he knew was that he _did_.

Emily looked intently at her fingers as she twisted them in her lap.

"Hey," Alex said gently. "It's okay. You can trust us; we don't bite."

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "But I can't. Nothing against you, nothing against Jack, and I really like you both. I just ... _can't_. I wish I could tell you. Really I do. But ... I can't do this."

"Yeah, whatever." The snide tone did what the gentle words had failed to accomplish. Emily shot up from the grass, eyes wild and furious. For once, _she_ had lost her temper as well.

"Listen," she snarled. For a moment, Alex was genuinely frightened by the wild, fierce, hunted look in her eyes, almost like that of a caged wild animal.

"Maybe I've got more than enough problems without having to worry some more about one that already gives me _nightmares_. Maybe this is so much harder for me than it is for you that you can't even imagine it. Maybe I'm keeping you safe by hurting myself. By keeping myself alone. Maybe, just _maybe_, by pushing you away? Yeah, I'm showing you _exactly_ how much I care. Did you think about that? Did you ever consider that I might not want this? That I might want to be selfish and let you in? That I might be doing this _because_ I care for you, and not in spite of the fact? Well? Did you?!"

She was so angry she was shaking. Or was she frightened?

"Emily ..." Alex said softly. He reached out his hand to her, but she pulled away, crying softly.

"I can't, Alex. I can't. You don't understand," she whimpered. She turned to leave, and he caught her wrist.

"Stay," he commanded. She turned and looked straight into his eyes.

"No." With a quick twist and a flick, she wrenched her hand out of his and turned to walk away again.

"Why do you insist on being so stubborn?" Alex yelled. "Who knows? I might even be able to help." Halfway across the road, Emily turned and looked at him again. The wind whipped her hair around her face.

"I doubt it," she whispered. A bus **(A/N: !)** pulled around the corner and barrelled towards her. She didn't move. Alex sprinted towards her, an awful feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as she turned to face the vehicle. She would never ...

Yet, what made him so sure she would never just throw away her life like that? Today, he had seen a totally different side of her, one he'd never even imagined existed.

"Emily!" he shouted. "Get out of the road!"

She didn't move.

True, Alex had lost some weight on his missions, but as he barrelled into her he reflected on the fact that he could still propel her onto the sidewalk with little difficulty. She wasn't anorexic thin, she was just very slim and toned, with hardly an ounce of fat.

As she stumbled forward, Emily grabbed ahold of Alex's wrist, pulling him with her. If she hadn't, Alex Rider would probably have died then and there.

As it was, the bus caught him a good clip as it went by, breaking several ribs and nearly puncturing a lung.

"No ..." Emily whispered, horrified, as she crouched over his body, prone on the pavement.

--

I stared down at Alex lying on the pavement. Oh, no. It had happened anyway. I'd tried to keep him safe, and it had happened anyway.

The awful memories came back again full force. This time I was powerless to stop them. They just washed over me, threatening to overwhelm me.

David. Mariposa. Tom. I'd never been able to protect anyone I'd cared for. I'd always lost them. Was Alex going to die because of my foolish pride? Was I going to lose someone else I loved?

I covered my face and sobbed. I'd done it again.

I took my hands away from my face and jumped up. The whole thing had taken less than five seconds. The bus was still in sight.

If anyone had seen, they would have assumed it was an accident. But I had seen the driver. And I'd recognized the necklace hanging from her neck.

They were never going to give up, were they? Staring at the bus, for a moment I'd actually wondered how bad it would be to just give up. To give them what they wanted.

They wanted me dead.

Then Alex -- wonderful, impulsive, _stupid_ Alex -- had gone and taken it into his head to push me out of the way. Only he'd waited too long. If he pushed me out of the way, his momentum wouldn't be enough to carry him to safety. He would become the world's largest bug, one more splatter mark on that windshield. I'd grabbed his wrist and pulled him along with me, hoping that I could get both of us out of the way in time.

You know what? I almost made it, too.

Alex had risked his life for me. And it was _their_ fault that he was lying on the pavement now.

With a snarl, I ripped open a stick of my explosive gum, armed it, and hurled it at the bus. If I got the trajectory right, it would stick to the back windshield. The shattered glass would take care of the driver, if I knew anything about Starr's explosives.

I didn't get the trajectory right.

Instead of sticking to the windshield, the gum went up the exhaust pipe.

--

Alex stared up at the blue sky, trying vainly to remember how he'd landed himself flat on his back on a London sidewalk, with a couple of broken ribs (by the feel of it).

A muffled sob dragged his attention away from his amnesic attack. He turned his head ever so slightly and caught sight of Emily kneeling beside him, her hands covering her face, sobbing as if her heart would break. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but no words would come out.

Suddenly she got up, a feral snarl tearing out of her throat. She turned to face the direction the bus was headed, and threw something. Alex watched the bus for a long moment, wondering what she'd thrown.

And then the bus blew up.

Later, when Alex tried to describe the explosion, all he would be able to say was, 'huge'.

But right now he saw the bright orange flames licking hungrily at the sky; felt the waves of heat rolling over him; heard the roaring of the flames and the softer, almost bell-like sound of broken glass landing on the pavement. An awful wave of nausea overcame him, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to stifle it. He failed, and passed out again.

When he woke up, it had probably been about ten minutes.

Now he could hear screaming and yelling, and sirens.

He heard something else, too. An angel.

"Alex? Alex, are you okay? Are you alive? Wake up! Talk to me!" the angel wailed. A cool, strong hand grasped his.

"Alex, please," the angel whispered, its voice soft and broken. "Please don't be -- please, don't be dead." It began to cry.

"Oh, Alex, I'm so sorry! I should have known better, I _should_ have! I should have been able to keep you safe! Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

His eyes fluttered open and he stared at the angel who wasn't an angel -- Emily. She'd covered her face with her other hand, and was crying again.

Why was he here? Oh, yes.

Emily had tried to jump in front of a bus.

"Fool girl ..." he rasped. She took her hand away from her face and stared down at him.

"You're ... you're ..." she gasped, her eyes growing round.

"Not dead?" Alex asked wryly. She nodded.

"You're ... not ... dead ..." She suddenly grasped his hand harder, until it almost hurt.

"I am such an idiot!" she said wrathfully. He raised one eyebrow.

"This is the first time I've done it, and I have to go and get you hit by a bus!"

"Done what?" She fidgeted and looked away.

"It's complicated." Alex rolled his eyes.

"I'm not a dimwit, you know. In fact, I think I'm pretty smart. So try me."

"You might think I'm stupid," she warned. Alex half-smiled.

"You just tried to jump in front of a bus. I already think you're stupid." She laughed bleakly. It was horrible to hear something that tired coming out of her mouth, Alex reflected.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" Emily asked, surprised.

"Don't laugh like that. It's just so ... hopeless sounding. It's not like you." She shot him a wry smile.

"And you know me _so_ well," she replied sarcastically. Alex smiled faintly.

"I'll admit, the attempted suicide did sort of throw me of guard." She looked down at her hands again.

"Listen ... you didn't have to do that. I would have come to my senses and gotten out of the way."

"And the bus would still be intact," Alex finished. She blushed pink.

"Um ... yeah. I guess so." She got up suddenly.

"Oh, good! The ambulances are here! Hey!" she yelled, waving her arms. "We've got a kid here that needs to get to the hospital!"

"I don't need to get to the hospital, Em!" Alex protested, but she shook her head and waved her arms again.

"Don't argue. You've probably got a concussion, maybe whiplash. You're going to go to the hospital, and I'm going to ride in the ambulance with you." She glanced down at him.

"Do you think I could pass as your sister?" He stared at her for a moment.

"We have different color eyes. And hair." She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it with a snap.

"... yeah ..." she finally said lamely. He sighed again.

"I suppose we could pass as brother and sister. Or cousins, failing that." She nodded thoughtfully.

"Miss, what's going on?" a female paramedic asked, looking concerned. Emily sighed and blinked back tears.

"My brother ..." she whimpered, and gestured to Alex. "He was standing on the sidewalk and the bus clipped him when it went out of control. He's only just woken up." A few tears ran down her cheeks. "I thought he was dead ..." She buried her face in the paramedic's shoulder and sobbed.

"Oh, please say he'll be alright!" she sobbed. The paramedic hesitated for a moment, then put her arm around Emily's shoulders.

"Shh, shh. I'm sure it's going to be alright," the older woman soothed. Emily sniffled and pulled away.

"Alex?" she asked anxiously, crouching next to him. "Alex, please stay awake. Please try and stay awake." Alex smiled faintly and squeezed her hand gently.

"You got it, sis."

**So ... I might revise this later, if you guys don't like it.**

**HOWEVER.**

**There is only ONE WAY to let me know you don't like it.**

**You guessed it!**

**Review. NOW!!**

**Aww, come on! The button's SO CLOSE!**

**And, on my computer, it's _shiny_.**

**;D**

**Shadow the shiny-button lover.**


	8. SERIOUSLY!

**Hi, pals! Okay, so _maaaaybe_ I ... um ... lied?**

**Let me clarify, calmly and rationally, and PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!**

**OkaysomaybeIliedandSabinaISN'TgoingtoshowupinChapter9butthat'sokayrightbecauseit'sallcoolshe'llbeheresoonsodon'tkillmebecauseitwasallalittlemisunderstandingIdidn'tmeanto!**

**ANYWAY, on with the story!**

**And, NO, Alex DOESN'T DIE! This ISN'T a deathfic.**

**Okay, so maybe ONE character dies, but it's not 'til much, MUCH later. So Alex doesn't die. Ever.**

**Okay, maybe he dies EVENTUALLY, but I have nothing to do with it! After all, MOST people die eventually. Except Dorian Gray, Dracula, people like that.**

**So ... Reviewers, it's your time to shine!**

**Buchworm13: I Love Shiny Stuff!  
Ya know, for all her intelligence, Em is kind of an idiot sometimes.**

**deathxofxthexbetrayed: _Interesting_ name. Not yet!**

**GJain: Sweet! I've always wanted for someone to tell me that! Haha!**

**sheluby94dreamer: Mm. He's awake, just not really capable of communication. But he gets there!**

**bb: Yes, Alex and Em have good chemistry. I'll keep up the good work!**

**loopygirl33: I'm glad you like it. I'll try and make sure that what happens next is up to your impeccable standards.  
Homework is ... oh, what was that Maximum Ride quote? Something along the lines of 'Adult-assigned, self-imposed torture' or something like that.**

**kiss rocks god of thunder: Rock on! I've actually never heard anything by kiss ...**

**royalheiress93: Yes, good Alex Rider fanfiction is somewhat difficult to find. I'm glad mine can be considered such! Yes!!  
I will update!**

**XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX: :D woo. OF COURSE HE'S NOT DEAD! He's the entire story! If he died ... shudders melodramatically THE WORLD WOULD END. ;D**

"Take him to St. Dominic's," I ordered as they loaded him into the ambulance. The paramedic, whose name, I learned, was Julie, turned and stared at me.

"St. Dominic's?" she echoed, sounding amazed. I nodded impatiently.

"Yes! You know the place, don't you?" She nodded.

"Yes, I know it. It's one of the most advanced and most expensive hospitals in London. Are you sure you want to go to St. Dominic's?" I rolled my eyes.

"Yes! I want you to take him to St. Dominic's! That's what I said!" I exclaimed, exasperated. She nodded again, and gave the address to the driver. I climbed into the back of the ambulance.

"Alex? Alex, can you hear me?" I asked, taking his hand and squeezing it gently.

"I can hear you," he said quietly.

"I think you have a concussion."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine." He sighed.

"I hope so. Another pile of make-up work is forthcoming. I can sense it." I smiled faintly.

"No problem. We'll just do what we did last time." Julie was eyeing the two of us curiously, so I 'explained'. Really, I'm a very good liar.

I suppose I shouldn't be proud of that.

"Well, my brother has been quite ill several times over the past few months, and he's had more than a little trouble catching up with the rest of the class, so we made an agreement. I'll help him out with all of his English homework, as well as the extracurricular activities, and he helps me in the maths and sciences. Really, it's a very good system, since we're so differently talented. We might make it a permanent feature, if _someone_ didn't insist on being stubborn and refusing help and doing badly in his English classes."

--

Alex stared at Emily as she chattered away to Julie about school and home and friends, and was somehow weaving Alex into it all. Almost as if ... as if he belonged there.

He was fading in and out of consciousness -- bad sign, by the way -- but he could still see her glancing out the back window an awful lot.

Still, Emily looked like she was in her element, fabricating an entire life with a boy she barely knew. Alex was surprised at how many things she got right about him, right down to his favorite football team.

"And then Alex and I got into this _huge_ fight about whether Manchester United or Chelsea was better, and I said 'Manchester's got better players and a better record!' but Alex insisted, 'We're _from_ Chelsea! We have to show moral support!' And then we didn't speak to each other for almost a week, until Jack -- that's our housekeeper, she's the best -- Jack sat us down and said we had to share a room until we started talking to each other again. We started chattering like a pair of magpies!"

Alex smiled faintly to himself. He had been right.

She _was_ absolutely insane.

--

"Doctor, is he going to be alright?" the girl demanded, grabbing at his arm. Doctor Mills smiled at her.

"Yes, yes, your brother will be fine. In fact, I think you can go in and see him, if you like." Her face lit up.

She ran to the door and vanished inside the hospital room. Dr. Mills looked at the pair through the window in the hospital room door.

The girl, Miss Rider, was kneeling at the edge of the bed, holding her brother's hand.

"Alex?" she whispered. "Alex, can you hear me?" The boy didn't respond. His face was all scratched up from the concrete, and he would probably have some nasty bruises. She whimpered and rested her head on the iron bedstead.

"Alex ... Alex, _wake up_. _Please_, wakeup."

"Ohhh ... remind me to never go on a picnic with you again," Alex mumbled, opening his eyes and scowling at his sister.

--

I slumped against the side of the bed and heaved a relieved sigh. I would now admit to myself how worried I was that he wouldn't wake up.

"Oh good. You're awake," I muttered. "Now listen." Alex tried to sit up. He looked like he felt awkward, just lying down like that.

I put one hand on his chest, forcing him to lie down again.

"_No_, Alex!" I hissed. "You almost got hit by a bus, you're lucky you're not dead, I'm not going to risk you injuring yourself further now!"

A strangled gasp was Alex's only response. His face, already pale, was now almost as white as the pillow it was resting on. His eyes were closed, and he'd broken out in a cold sweat.

I glanced down. My hand was on his heart.

I unbuttoned his shirt and gently slipped it off of him.

"Em, isn't this all rather sudden ..." Alex protested, trying to joke.

"You hush," I snapped, probably harsher than I should have. I ripped his undershirt about six inches down from the neck, and stared.

Stared at the pink, shiny, puckered yet perfectly round scar just milimeters above his heart.

"Em ..." Alex tried again, but I stopped him.

"Alex, how did you get shot?"

--

Alex sighed and looked away.

"What makes you so sure it's a bullet scar?" he asked, hoping to plant a little seed of doubt in her mind. However, she merely shook her head decidedly.

"No. It's a bullet hole. Alex, _how did you get shot_?" she asked again, her voice a low growl. She looked icily furious.

"It would take too long to explain," he said tiredly. Emily raised one eyebrow.

"Time? We've got nothing _but_ time. _Tell me_. How did you get shot?" She was talking in a low, deadly voice. Alex sighed. Why him?

Why did _he_ of all people have to get stuck with, not only a girl, but a girl like _her_. Probably the most stubborn, intelligent girl in America.

"You have to get to school," he muttered. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"No. I'm not going without you, and so I'm obviously not going," she said stubbornly. Alex sighed again. He knew better than to argue when she was like this.

"Fine then. Will you go if I promise to tell you later?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Promise on something special, and I'll think about it." He sighed.

"I promise ... I promise ... I promise on all of that makeup work you did for me after you went beserk! There! How's that?" he demanded, feeling snappish.

Emily smiled.

"That works. I'll see you after school," she replied, and got up to leave.

"Wait!" Alex called. Emily turned to look at him.

"Yes?" Alex felt a little foolish for calling her back. He'd specifically asked her to go, why did he want her to stay now that she was actually leaving?

"Do you ... do you have to leave now?" She smiled and bounced into the chair.

"No. Not if you don't want me to." He grinned.

"Then you're my prisoner." She laughed.

"Oh, no! I'm doomed! What do I have to do?" she asked. Alex linked his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling.

"Hmm ... I don't know. Amuse me. You have to amuse me." She sighed.

"That's a tall order, considering I have absolutely no idea what amuses you. I don't really know any funny jokes, or funny stories, and my comedy routine is a little outdated."

Alex raised one eyebrow.

"Then I guess I'll have to torture you until you think of something amusing." Emily raised an eyebrow to match him.

"Right," she said, drawing the word out. "And you're in _perfect_ condition to torture someone." Alex laughed.

"I am rather battered for such strenuous work, aren't I?" Emily nodded gleefully.

"Know what that means?" Alex shook his head.

"I have a bad feeling about this ... no." She cackled.

"It means you're in my power, Okami-chan!"

"Okami-chan?" Alex repeated, confused. Emily smiled.

"'Chan' is a Japanese term of endearment. It means you're special to me. Okami is 'wolf' if you were wondering. So it's a nickname. I think it suits you."

"Then ... what do I call you?" he asked. Emily frowned thoughtfully.

"I've got one!" she said, lighting up. "You can call me Kaede."

"Okay," Alex agreed. "I'll call you Kaede. What is it?"

"Kaede is maple leaf in Japanese." He nodded.

"Maple leaf. Okay, Kaede-chan, now that I'm in your power, then what?" She frowned thoughtfully.

"Good question, Okami-chan," she finally said. "Hmm ... wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure," Alex said, glad that he'd made her forget school for the moment.

Emily rummaged through the basket of DVDs and pulled out _King Lear_.

"Classic work of Shakespeare?" she asked. Alex shook his head.

"Nah. Too depressing. Got anything more cheerful?" She frowned and rummaged some more.

"Umm ... how about Elizabethtown, Alex? That looks interesting." Alex shrugged.

"Never seen it. Okay." Emily nodded and put it in.

"Well, enjoy the movie! I'm off to school," she said casually, getting up to leave.

"Wait, Kaede-chan!" Alex called suddenly. She turned and regarded him quizzically.

"Yes, 'Kami-chan?" she asked with a smile.

"You ... you aren't going to stay and watch the movie?" he asked. Emily frowned sternly and sat down on the floor next to the hospital bed.

"First things first, Alex. You tell me how you got shot, I stay and watch the movie with you. You refuse to tell me _right now_, I walk out of here and go to school. Your choice."

Alex sighed. Of course it couldn't last. Being normal could never last for him, anymore.

"You might not believe me," he warned. Emily rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I trust you to tell me the truth." He closed his eyes.

"I was shot," he said.

"I _know_ that," Emily broke in, exasperated. "What I _want_ to know is _when_, and _where_, and with _what_, and above all _why_?" Alex opened his eyes and glared at her.

"I'm _getting_ there, Kaede-chan. Patience is a virtue." Em rolled her eyes.

"So is getting to the _point_, Okami-chan." Alex sighed.

"Alright. I'll get to the point. So anyway, I ... I was shot ... by a terrorist agency." Emily started so violently she fell off the bed with an audible thud.

"You okay?" Alex asked, poking his head over the edge of the bed. Emily glared up at him from her admittedly ungainly position sprawled on the hospital room floor.

"You idiot!" she shouted, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Seriously, what did you _do_?" she hissed. "I mean, nothing against you, but you're just a kid!"

"You really aren't going to give me a break, are you?" he asked sharply. Emily shook her head.

"Alex ... I wouldn't fuss like this, but ... I care about you. And now you're hurt. And you've been shot by some assassin. I want to protect you, but I can't unless you tell me what's going on." He gave her his best glare, although the effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that he was lying prone in a hospital bed.

"Look, it's sweet that you care about me and all, and that you care that I'm in the hospital. But, in case you hadn't noticed, that's your fault," he said sharply. She nodded silently and looked down at her shoes.

"As for protecting me, _MI6_ couldn't even protect me. What's a fourteen-year-old girl going to be able to do? After all, a worldwide terrorist organization is literally out to get me."

"I can stay with you all the time," she said quickly, bouncing back onto the bed, apparently disregarding the MI6 comment completely. "I really do that anyway, after all. It'll be harder to subdue two people than just one. They won't have any instructions regarding me, so they'll either try and take me with them when they kidnap you, or they'll kill me, too, if they're trying to kill you. And I warn you," she said darkly. "I don't die easily."

Alex stared at her.

"What _are_ you?" he asked. She scowled.

"I'm someone who doesn't like to see her friends get hurt. Get on with the story. You've still got quite a little bit of 'splaining to do." He eyed her for a long moment, then sighed in defeat.

"I'm just ... good at what I do." It wasn't bragging. He'd been successful on every mission, outwitted every villain, defeated every bad guy and completed every daring escape. Honestly, he was surprised that Paramount Pictures, or whoever it was, hadn't approached him about making a film yet.

"That's a great start!" she cheered. "Now, what is it that you do that you're so good at?" He sighed.

"You're not gonna believe this."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You probably just don't want to tell me."

"That too."

"Well, get on with it."

"I'm a spy. I've saved the world. Yes, I've _actually saved the world_. MI6 pressed me into the service after my uncle died."

"That's _sick_," she said, with an emphatic tone that surprised him.

"Mm?" was all he could manage to get out. He'd been expecting her to be all over it, thinking it was the _coolest thing ever_, but, once again, she'd done the polar opposite of what he'd expected. Alex supposed he had better get used to it.

"I mean ... it's just sick, ya know? That they would take advantage of you like that. After all, you're just a _kid_. What can _you_ do?" Normally, Alex would have been affronted by her simply passing him off as an ignorant, weak kid, but he actually agreed with her in this case.

"I know. I'm just a punk kid, right? What can I do? But ... apparently ... I can do an awful lot when the fate of the world depends on it."

"Can't we all," Emily muttered wryly. Alex raised one eyebrow.

"Uh -- um -- we-well ... I ... I-I mean ..." she stammered, blushing pink. "I-It's nothing, really." Alex sighed sympathetically.

"Y'know, you're really a terrible liar," he said conversationally.

"I am not!" she protested, sitting straight up. He chuckled.

"Ohh, yes you are. You're blushing and stammering and making absolutely _no_ sense, and so you're obviously lying," he said, taking unholy glee in her discomfort. Emily just shrugged.

"It just proves how good I am if I can be bad when I so choose," she shot back, seemingly unperturbed. Alex's eyes narrowed.

"Em ... are you feeling well?" he asked, somewhat off-topic. She shrugged.

"I guess. Apart from the whole my-best-friend-just-got-hit-by-a-bus-and-it-was-my-fault thing, yeah." He shook his head.

"You are _so_ wierd." She looked up.

"Is that bad?" she asked worriedly.

"That's just what I'm talking about!" he cried. "You don't even know if _wierd_ is bad or not! You can't tell whether you like London or Whiteville better, and you've apparently lived in Whiteville all your life! You don't even care that you have an _iPhone_, and you didn't even know that it was just a toy helicopter under a sheet! _What is wrong with you_??"

Emily's big, solemn, dark blue eyes stared up at him silently. Alex mentally kicked himself when he thought he saw tears welling up in them.

"Okay, maybe nothing's actually _wrong_ with you," he conceded. "But ... seriously, there's some stuff about you that's just _not normal_. Honestly, what's the deal?" She hugged her knees to her chest and looked into the corner of the hospital room.

"Well, actually ... What was that?" she asked suddenly, looking over at the door. Her eyes were opened wide, and her whole body was tense. She sprang up.

"I'll be right back," she said shortly, and left the room, quickly and silently.

Only one thought was running through Alex's head.

_What the ... seriously?!_

**Mm-hmm! I'm evil like that! **

**Soo ... I'm thinking that the next chapter will be _super_ long because I have to fit in Sabina and the random cliffie that probably makes no sense right now but will when you read the next chapter _and_ Alex coming home from the hospital _and_ Mrs. Jones!**

**So yeah. Major stressage!**

**Y'know what? I'm ill. Dreadfully ill. I've got a sinus infection and a fever of 103 and an awful stomach-ache and an ear infection and I feel all lightheaded.**

**I think I'm dying.**

**BUT, I will take time from my busy dying schedule and try to update soon!**

**Shadow the Invalid**


	9. We Need To Talk

**It's Chapter 10! The chapter where I make up for everything I got behind on! And I am so DREADFULLY sorry it took me so long! Really, that sort of procrastination is inexcusable. So ... sorry?**

**Okaaay ... Hey! There's some things I forgot in the last chapter that I just remembered!**

**NOTICE:**

**Alex is being kept in the hospital overnight for observation, just in case.**

**Emily wasn't being show-offy or stupid with the whole Japanese thing, I had _planned_ for her to make some excuse involving watching anime at home, but with my stuffy-headedness it was not to be. Sad.**

**Reviewers:**

**Saynt Jimmy: And you would know this ... how? JK, I'm sure you know much more about bullet wounds than I do. Because I know absolutely nothing about bullet wounds except that they reputedly hurt like ... umm ... a lot.  
The Japanese was just a little random-ness that I put in, and I have some vague idea about how it works out later in the story.  
The point is that she's opening up to him a little and letting a little bit more of her show. She's _just_ odd enough to do something like that on the spur of the moment.  
Don't worry. Nitpickyness is natural to me, too.**

**XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX: A rubber ball? Where did that come from? Ah, well. Just because you asked me, I will do it. I'm like your SLAVE or something.**

**Fervour-for-Literacy: Yeah, I saw that and got kind of confused. I was all, 'I didn't know I was THAT addle-brained, but okay ...'  
Things just get better the more you read them! ;D  
Sorry I made you wait as long as I did!**

**Chacotan: I will admit, your name made me kind of grumpy. I was just remembering when I was at camp this summer, at New Life Ranch. My brother (yes, the same one that thinks my name is creepy and emo) was an LIT -- Leadership In Training -- and I was a senior camper. So anyway, my mom sent us both care packages. He got _chacos_, and I've been _dying_ to get chacos for ages. I got _muffins_.  
Yeah, you heard right. Muffins.  
Anyway, thanks for the concern! I always freak out when people are sick, too. I guess it's my overactive imagination making me worry that they've got cancer or lupis or smallpox or something else nasty and fatal and scary. Yeah.  
I'm glad that you think my story is good! Actually, I do think it's funny that you're obsessed with my story. See, I'm too nervous to let anyone read my work when they know it's mine. I'm sort of afraid of what they might think of it. Of me. So I just post my story here, and hope that it's good enough. So your obsession is sort of reassuring.**

**Loopygirl33: Loopy! Hi!  
Yes, I was very sick. And I think I gave it to my friend Caleb. So now I'm all guilty-feeling.  
****I'm sorry that I took so long, really I am. I just had a week of make-up work and four tests to make up, and no Emily to do it for me. :( And THEN I was writing this other story that my mom told me to work on. But now I'm back! :)  
Thanks!**

**COMMA OF THOUGHT: Thanks! I'm so glad that you love my story! I have just about ZERO confidence in my work, so I just post it anonymously here and hope for the best!**

**The raven: I'll do my best to finish the story. I'll pray for you, if that's alright.**

I slipped out of the hospital room -- and rammed _straight_ into a very hard, black surface. Which actually turned out to be a person.

"Oop, sorry!" I giggled, and turned to go back into Alex's room, but a hand reached out and caught my arm in a viselike grip. I glanced down and my eyes were met with a pair of steely black ones in a petite Asian face.

"Oh. Hello, Mrs. Jones," I said coolly.

"Emily, we need to talk," she said sternly. I cocked my head and motioned toward the door.

"Um -- don't you mean you want to talk to -- Alex? After all, he's the one who works for you. I'm just sort of here on part time -- sort of." Her eyes narrowed.

"This is very important, Emily, and we will talk about it." I pulled my arm away.

"Well, since you're here, you obviously want something from Alex, so why don't you go and ask him," I said flatly. "You're right, we _will_ talk about it eventually. But until then, leave me alone. Now go talk to Alex." Just a little stunned, she went and did as she was told. I sighed and brushed a strand of shiny, dead straight red hair from my eyes.

"I really _hate_ having red hair," I muttered under my breath, and settled down to figuring out what had Mrs. Jones so steamed.

Hmm. Not that.

Or that.

Not that either. She wouldn't care.

Oh.

_Oh_.

What if it was about ... that? Oh, that would be bad. That would be very bad indeed.

"Well," I said grimly. "I guess we'll just have to talk it out." I sat in silence for about ten minutes before adding,

"And I'm _staying_."

--

Alex frowned tiredly as the door opened and the wrong person walked in.

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly. Mrs. Jones almost seemed to fidget.

"How are you feeling, Alex?" she asked, looking worried.

"Just fine, no thanks to you. I _said_, what do you want?"

"I -- I wanted to make sure you were alright," she said softly. She looked as though she wanted to hug them, but restrained herself.

"I said I never wanted to see any of you again," he said harshly, "so I'll ask again. What. Do. You. WANT?" Alex was furious. He wanted her out of the room, out of the hospital, and OUT of his LIFE.

"We need your help," she said briskly. He gestured to the hospital room.

"Not exactly in top condition, am I?" he asked caustically. She sighed.

"We -- we're desperate. I didn't want to bring you back into this, Alex," she said, half-pleading. Alex didn't believe her.

"Of course you didn't," he said, sarcasm lacing his voice heavily.

"You're too much like my boy -- too much like David," she said, more to herself than to him. Alex paused, realizing that she was talking about her son.

"He would be about your age now," she mused. "No, a bit younger. Violet would be fifteen."

"David and Violet Jones. Pretty names," Emily said softly from the doorway. The teenager and the Asian woman turned to look at her.

"I'm very sorry that they were taken," she said sincerely. Mrs. Jones turned white, and she very nearly swallowed her peppermint.

"How did you know that?" she demanded in a hoarse whisper. Emily frowned.

"I just know things. I'm a smart girl."

"I didn't tell her," Alex promised, in response to Mrs. Jones's livid look.

"But how ... I don't understand ..." She trailed off, looking quite lost.

"It's alright, Mrs. Jones, we'll talk later," Emily assured her, taking the older woman by the elbow and leading her out the door. "Alex should be home tomorrow, you can drop by then. You know the address, don't you? Of course you do. Sometime around four o'clock would be perfect. Goodbye." She gently shut the door behind Alan Blunt's second in command and flopped into a chair.

"Stupid," she muttered, massaging her temples. "I _really_ shouldn't have butted in like that." Emily suddenly sat up stock-still.

"What did she say to you?" she demanded. Alex shrugged.

"Asked how I was doing, said they needed me on a mission, and then told me she never wanted me back because I reminded her of her dead son."

"You don't know he's dead," Emily contradicted softly.

"I don't?" Alex said belligerently. "He's been gone for years, apparently. Mrs. Jones has given up hope, apparently; she and her husband split up over it; and she's now fighting a severe addiction to peppermints. I'd say they're dead." Quietly, Emily got up and looked at him, a long, careful stare.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked gently. "You seem ... a bit shaken. It's okay not to hate Mrs. Jones, you know. Maybe the next time she says she doesn't want this for you ... you should try believing her."

"Fat lot you know about it," he snapped.

"I think I'll take a breather," she said slowly. "Maybe ten minutes. Don't get yourself killed, Alex. Where would I stay if you died?" She turned on her heel and walked out again.

Alex sighed and flopped back flat on the hospital bed.

"I really shouldn't have ticked her off ..." he mused.

--

I was back in five minutes, with a chocolate-chip cookie as a peace offering.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I shouldn't have interrupted like that, and it was really none of my business."

"S'okay," Alex mumbled around a mouthful of cookie. "How did you know about the Jones children, anyway?"

"I'm good with computers," I said with a shrug. He paused thoughtfully.

"And that didn't answer my question _at all_."

"It wasn't supposed to." He looked angry.

"Why are you always so evasive?" he demanded.

"Maybe I don't like being interrogated," I shot back, getting a little irritated myself.

"Yeah, and you _totally_ know what it's like to be interrogated," he snapped.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea!"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"It means exactly what it is!"

"Which is, in effect, nothing! You always do this! What do you have against letting me get to know you?" I stood up abruptly.

"I'm going to go see Tom. I'll be there when you come home, Alex." Without another word, I veritably stomped out.

--

I stalked down the hallway and tried to think happy thoughts. Incidentally, none of them included governments or hospitals or most people I know. Mrs. Jones, of course, was conspicuous in her absence, and Jack was practically the only human being present in my little thought-land.

"Oh! Sorry," a female voice said after someone barrelled into me. I gasped and tried to catch my breath, leaning against the wall.

"S'okay," I wheezed, then glanced over at her.

She was quite pretty, a little older than I was, with brown hair that was straight like Emily's was, and big brown eyes that reminded me of my own.

"I'm Emily," I said, holding out my hand on impulse.

"Sabina Pleasure," she replied, shaking it. I stared at her, the smile dropping off of my face.

"Seriously?" I asked. "Oh, I'm just running into _everybody_ I don't want to today," I muttered under my breath, quietly, so she wouldn't hear.

"Hey, Sab, is that your dad?" I asked, gesturing to the man she'd been talking to. She nodded.

"Yeah. My mum's got viral pneumonia, so we came here." I grinned.

"Mr. Pleasure?" I asked, going up to him. He turned.

"Yes, that's my name, what is it?" I gave him my best smile.

"Could I kidnap your daughter for a moment? There's someone here who's just _dying_ to see her. I'll bring her back. Promise!" He smiled at me.

"Of course." My smile turned real. Obviously, Mr. Pleasure, was a genuiniely trusting person. I was surprised that Mrs. Pleasure let Sabina out of her sight.

"Where are you taking me?" Sabina asked, just a little frightened. I shot her a reassuring glance over my shoulder.

"To see Alex. I mean, you _do_ want to see him, don't you?"

"I -- I -- of course," she stammered.

"Good! Then let's stop the idle chitchat," I said brightly, cutting her off.

--

"Alex?"

"Um ... still here," he said, slightly confused. Emily poked her head in the slightly open door and grinned apologetically.

"I know I said I wouldn't bother you until tomorrow at least, but -- there's someone here to see you."

"Who?" Alex asked warily.

"Someone," she replied evasively. He frowned.

"Description?"

"Non-threatening." He rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean, Em," he said curtly. "What do they look like?"

"Umm ... you know what they say?" Emily said, suddenly cheerful.

"I'm sure you're going to tell me," Alex said with a sigh.

"They say that a picture's worth a thousand words! No -- no, I'm not going in. Get in there, I say."

A rather confused-looking Sabina was unceremoniously shoved into the room, and the door slammed behind her.

"If you lock that, I'm going to kill you!" Alex called. There was a muffled exclamation and the distinctive sound of a door unlocking.

"Stupid Alex, ruining all my fun. Alright, it's unlocked! Happy?" He grinned in spite of himself.

"Over the moon." The only response was silence.

"So, Sabina ... it's been a while ..."

--

"Coach? Coach Peterson?" I asked, poking my head into the office.

"Yes," he said grumpily. I smiled warily and took that as my cue to enter.

"Umm ... why did you cut Alex Rider from the team?"

"Blunt little thing, aren't you?" he asked, chuckling. "Truth is, I didn't think he could cut it. All those absences, very suspicious. I also wasn't sure that he wasn't on drugs. So I cut him." I bit my lip, oddly nervous.

"Um ... well, I can vouch for his honesty and his integrity and I _know_ that he hasn't been using drugs. And he's an amazing player. Please, coach, give him another chance. I swear, he won't let you down. I _swear_." He didn't look like he was buying it.

"I -- I'll help out at practices," I blurted. "I'll haul water, I'll wash uniforms, I'll do anything! Just let him back on the team, _please_, it's really important." He grinned at me.

"Of course he's back on the team. After all, I can't pass up such a pretty aid! It'll double the boys' resolve to do well!" He winked at me in a fatherly, affectionate way. "All wantin' to impress the pretty lady on the sidelines."

I decided that I liked this coach.

--

**(A/N: So, do you get it? Tom's really big with soccer -- excuse me, football -- and so she's making amends to him by getting a great player back on the team. Kind of pathetic, but the best I could come up with. And the coach is really just a nice guy. I don't think he'll figure much in the story, but one never knows.)**

--

"I'm going to go get Alex from the hospital," Jack said, running through the downstairs and searching frantically for certain necessary items. Like keys. And shoes.

"Your shoes are under the kitchen table where you left them last night, and your keys are in your purse. Your little hat thing that you wear is on the hook by the door where you're _supposed_ to put it, but you never do," I said, never looking up from my book.

"Oh." She paused, wrinkling her nose throught. "Who put it _there_?" I rolled my eyes and sighed, but smiled at the same time.

"I did, Jack. Now go and get Alex before he causes more trouble for himself. With his knack for getting into trouble, he'd probably burn St. Dominic's down, and then we'd _really_ be in a mess of trouble."

"Right," she said firmly, and walked out the door, locking it securely behind her. I snuggled further down in my chair and tried to calm the uneasiness in my stomach. Alex would be back in maybe twenty minutes, he was back on the soccer team, his girlfriend was probably going to be spending every waking moment in his house and I was a teenage spy from America who had absolutely no idea what I was doing here. There was only one remedy for this potentially life-threatening clump of awful problems.

Cheerios.

--

The doorbell rang as I was rinsing out my cereal bowl.

"I'll get it," I called out of habit, before remembering that the house was empty.

"Oh. Mrs. Jones." I said flatly when I recognized the woman standing on the doorstep. "Do you really want to talk about that _now_? Jack's bringing Alex home any minute. I'm thinking you shouldn't come until at least tomorrow." She brushed past me and stalked inside.

"I never said you could come in!" I called, realizing how stupid I must sound.

"Why didn't they tell us?" she asked bluntly. I shrugged.

"You asked for help, you got it. It's not like you were _falling all over yourselves_ to give information on Alex when we needed him." Yes, I'd learned about my buddy's help to my government in the time since the somewhat shocking revelation that he was, in fact, a he.

"But something like that should at least be _mentioned_," she said through gritted teeth. I laughed once, a short, sharp, brittle laugh. I don't think I'd laughed like that since I came here.

"Yeah, of course," I shot back, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "That's _just_ the thing you mention in passing. 'Oh, here you go, we'll let you have our little girl agent to play girlfriend to your boy. Her name's Meredith but she'll answer to anything. She speaks twelve languages, and did we mention she might be insane? Have fun!' Oh, yeah, I can _really_ see that going over well," I snapped. Her eyes narrowed.

"Then _you_ should have at least mentioned it." I rolled my eyes.

"And risk getting sent back?"

I heard the faint click of Jack's key slipping into the lock and grabbed Mrs. Jones by the elbow.

"We should continue this conversation later," I said, steering her up the stairs and into my room.

"Be right back. Promise," I whispered, easing the door shut.

"We're home!" Jack yelled. I bounded down the stairs, unable to quell my excitement.

"Hey you guys!" I yelped, running over and engulfing Alex in a hug. "Did you burn down the building?" I asked. He shook his head and smiled a tired little smile.

"I wish. After what happened last time I was there, I think they put security cameras in my room." I grinned at him.

"That's my little pyro! Anybody hungry?" Jack nodded.

"I think I'll go get pizza," she said, turning and walking straight back out the door.

"Okay ... bye?" I said quizzically, after she pulled out of the driveway. Alex was just standing there awkwardly, his hands in his pockets.

"Um ... so ... how was Sabina?" I asked, smiling nervously.

"She was okay. Very curious about you, actually. Is it okay if she comes over sometime this weekend?"

"Why shouldn't it be okay?" I asked, drying my dishes and putting them away. "After all, it's your house." He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I -- I know, but ... you live here, and it might be a little awkward ..." I turne around and smiled at him, placing a hand on his arm.

"Alex, she's your girlfriend. If I can't play second fiddle to the woman in your life when I'm just your pal, there's a problem. Go put on a movie, snob." He grinned and gave me a quick hug before going out of the kitchen and into the family room. I'd taken to calling him snob sometimes, just like he sometimes called me sunshine. I guess because I was always so unfailingly -- ha -- cheerful.

"I'm going to go change," I called, heading up the stairs.

"Okay, I'll wait for you," he called back, pausing the movie. I smiled to myself. Good old Alex.

"Well? Now Alex is in the house; I probably won't be able to get you out until after dinner," I said irritably, shutting the door behind me. Mrs. Jones rose from where she'd been sitting in my desk chair and gave me a long, cold stare.

"I want you to go back to America."

--

After about ten minutes of tossing a rubber ball at the wall and catching it when it bounced back to him, Alex got bored. It couldn't take a girl _that_ long to change clothes. And besides, Emily was never really the spend-three-days-getting-ready type.

So he decided to go and hurry her up.

As he climbed the stairs, Alex thought he heard a voice. Female. Older. Not Emily. Pursing his lips, he climbed faster.

"You could seriously jepoardize everything we've worked for!" Mrs. Jones was saying sternly. "I'm sending you back to America."

"You really don't want to make that phone call." Emily's cool, calm voice interrupted.

"And why not?" the older woman demanded. Alex just knew by the sound of her voice that she was sucking on her peppermint frantically.

"Because I'll go public before you can get me out of here." His jaw dropped. She wouldn't do that! She couldn't do that to him after he'd trusted her enough to tell her everything!

"You wouldn't," Mrs. Jones spluttered, echoing his sentiments exactly.

"Oh, but I would. There are so many British tabloids just _dying_ for a salacious story about MI6, so many teen magazines looking for a new heartthrob. Sexy _and_ lethal? Alex would be an instant hit. And he'll only get cuter as he gets older, so I doubt the public will just discard him when they get bored. Plus, there's the damage this could do back home -- the way my government's renting me out for instance, not to mention who -- and _what_ -- I am."

And what is that, exactly, Alex wanted to ask, but she continued before he could even open his mouth.

"The truth is, Mrs. Jones, I am just like Alex, only about twenty years in the future if something doesn't change for him, and fast. I'm a killing machine, ready to do anything so long as it gets the job done. I haven't taken an innocent civilian's life yet, but the odds are that someday I will. And what you and the CIA have turned me into will _not_ go over well with the press or the public. Face it," she smirked. "You don't really have a lot of options right now."

There was a long, almost interminable silence.

"Alright," Mrs. Jones finally conceded with a sigh. "You can stay. But Blunt won't be happy with this."

"And who says _I'll_ let her stay?" Alex asked angrily, opening the door and stepping inside.

--

**Ooh! Cliffie!**

**Well ... not really, I guess ...**

**Again, super sorry for the long wait!**

**Review!**

**Shadow the master of procrastination**


	10. No More Helicopter Spirits

**Fervour-for-literacy: Not as long as last time!**

**XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX: Yeah, I put in the rubber ball, just like you asked me to! Happy???**

**the raven: I'm glad you liked the cheerios bit. I love cheerios! I had them for breakfast this morning.**

**Wolfmonster: Um ... yeah. Didn't you hear that conversation? She just threatened to ruin his entire life to get what she wanted. Which was to stay with him, but that's beside the point.  
I'm glad that you like it!  
Now what kind of an author would I be if I didn't tidy up my loose ends? What kind of a seamstress would I be, come to think of it ...**

**So anyway!**

**I just got back from the MOST AWESOME MISSION TRIP OF ALL TIME.**

**I'm on my spring break, and we got to go sleep on a church floor and help people! I'm so hyped.**

**But I'm not here to talk about my faith. Story time!**

Mrs. Jones looked stunned. I just looked at him with solemn eyes.

"Mrs. Jones, I think that you should go," I said quietly, never taking my eyes off of Alex. "I'll call you later."

"About what?" Mrs. Jones asked, slightly confused.

"Either to accept your offer or ask for a plane ticket," I explained with a grimace. Mrs. Jones left without another word.

An awkward silence pervaded the room, and I held Alex's gaze unflinchingly, despite the almost overwhelming urge to break down and beg for his forgiveness.

_I've done nothing wrong_, I reminded myself firmly. _I was just doing what I was told_.

_But you've never felt right about lying to him_, another voice insinuated.

_Stop it!_ I commanded harshly. _I did what I had to do. That's always worked before_.

_Oh, sure. That's why you have nightmares._

"We should go downstairs," I finally said.

"I _trusted_ you!" he exploded. "I told you things -- I've never told anyone! And you _betrayed_ me."

"I never betrayed you!" I contested hotly. "Forgive me if I didn't tell you the second we got out of the car. We didn't exactly get off on the right foot, if you'll remember."

"You were going to go to the press!" he shouted, throwing his arms wide. "You were going to tell them everything! Forgive me, but on this side of the pond, that's betrayal." I glared at him and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Thanks, Alex. I'm glad to see that you think so highly of me," I snapped. "You honestly thought I would go to the press? Really? You're my best friend, Alex. My _only_ friend. I would never have done that. I would probably have just gone and told them about myself. And keep you from ever finding out. After all, you don't exactly look like a faithful reader of _Seventeen_."

"But _I_ told _you_," he snapped. "You should have at least told me after I told you."

"How was I supposed to do that?" I cried, throwing my arms out. "Hey, I'm sorry your life is terrible because your a superspy, I'm in the same boat?"

"That would be good, for starters," he retorted. "Also, maybe add, 'I'm working for your government, and Mrs. Jones is a personal friend.' That would be incredibly helfpul."

"She's not my personal friend," I retorted. "She came to talk to me about -- something. Something that doesn't concern you. It's _my_ concern, my _problem_, and I don't want to involve you. You probably already hate me enough," I said with a bleak laugh.

"I don't," he said, with surprising gentleness.

"Of course you do," I snapped. "I lied to you. Everything I told you about myself is a lie! It's all artifice, nothing is real! There's _nothing_ about me that's real! My _hair_ isn't even _red_." His eyes widened a little and his eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. I could practically see the gears working inside his head.

"Yes, that's what the whole 'what if my hair wasn't red' thing was about," I admitted. "I was trying to fool myself into thinking ... into thinking that maybe we could still be friends once this was all over." A lone tear slipped down my cheek, and I brushed it away, laughing.

"Look at me!" I laughed, a bit bewildered. "I haven't cried since I was six and now I'm crying twice in two days. You're really having a bad effect on me, Alex Rider."

"Six?" he repeated incredulously. I nodded.

"Yeah, six. Why?" He stared at me.

"When _I_ was six I was joining karate and soccer, and whining about Jack refusing to bake chocolate-chip cookies."

"Wow," I said with a brief chuckle. "That's ... _way_ different from my childhood."

"When ... how long have you been doing this?" he asked.

"As long as I can remember. This is all I know." He leaned forward and peered into my eyes.

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Twelve."

"Preferred method of combat?" I grinned.

"Hand-to-hand, although I'm a crack shot. You?"

"Hand-to-hand," he agreed. "They've never let me have a gun," he added, a little wistfully. I shrugged.

"_Technically_, they never let me have one, either. Ah, well." I raised my eyebrows.

"Technically?" he repeated. I grinned at him.

"Starr has a soft spot for me. And I have to take a shower," I added. "May I?"

"Of course," he said, leaving my room. "The movie's still on. We can finish talking later." I smiled faintly.

"Alex? Thank you."

--

She turned on the hot water and stood under the shower head, reveling in the pounding water for a moment before letting down her hair and getting it wet.

Alex knew about her. This gave Emily ... mixed feelings.

_Well, this puts an end to my whole 'stay friends after I go back home' scenario,_ she thought with a rueful smile as she scrubbed her hair with the special shampoo Carla had given her. It would remove the hair dye, she'd explained.

Emily chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip as she watched the red hair dye slowly rinse out of her hair and spiral down the drain in a lazy circle, almost like blood.

"I never wanted this," she mumbled, leaning against the cool tile of the shower wall. "I just want to go back to the way it was."

_Do you really?_ the annoying little voice asked.

_Yes. I do. Now stop bothering me, I'm trying to take a shower._

_Ha. That excuse isn't going to work on me. I'm inside your head. I'm taking a shower, too. Stupid argument._

Straightening up, Emily noticed that there was a red smear on the white tile where her head had rested. Grimacing, she splashed it with water until it slowly melted away.

"Just like all the lies I built up around me. Melting away like snow in the sun," she mumbled sadly. "A pity the house of cards couldn't stay up a few weeks longer. Stupid Mrs. Jones."

_I can't take back what I said to Mrs. Jones_, she thought as she rinsed her hair. _But I can try and make things right with Alex. Tell him the truth. All of it. Well ... **almost** all of it._

Working the conditioner into her hair, Emily sighed.

"My name is still Emily, to him, though," she said firmly. "I can't change _that_ much. And I really _do_ prefer soccer to football, so we're okay on that score." She let out a little laugh.

"Alex knows. Wow. This feeling is ... liberating." She tipped her head back so the water was pouring onto her face and laughed.

Quickly scrubbing the conditioner out of her hair, Emily shut off the water and got out of the shower, quickly pulling a comb through her wet, curly brown hair.

"Ahh, it feels so good to look in the mirror and see _brown_ again," she sighed, beaming at her reflection. Her eyes narrowed suddenly, and she peered closely at the mirror for a moment.

"Not _quite_ enough brown, though," she muttered, and quickly removed her blue contact lenses.

"_Much_ better," she said approvingly, and went to get dressed.

--

"Hallo, Alex! Would you like some cheerios? I already had a bowl, but I have an amazingly fast metabolism, so I can eat with you, if you like." Alex looked up at the girl who had bounced into the room -- and his jaw hit the floor.

She was Emily's height. She was speaking with Emily's voice. She, apparently, had Emily's same insane love of honey-nut cheerios.

But this couldn't be Emily.

Emily's hair was -- no wait, she'd said it wasn't red. But Emily's eyes _were_ blue, and Emily's eyes _were_ wide and round, and Emily's voice _was_ higher than this one, although it was the same pitch.

Whoever this girl was, she was still quite pretty.

Curly brown hair with glints of red and gold catching the fading sunlight. Gently smiling, almond-shaped brown eyes. A soft voice, lower than the one he was used to, but still undeniably feminine.

"You're beautiful," he blurted, and she laughed. That clinched it. This _was_ Emily. The laugh was the same, whatever else might have changed.

"So my no-longer-red hair doesn't appal you?" she asked, dropping onto the couch next to him. Alex shook his head.

"I like you better with brown hair," he said, and then mentally kicked himself. She grinned.

"Well, this _is_ the way I was born, so it's supposed to work out like that. Snob." Alex laughed. The uncomfortable barrier that had grown up between them with her change in appearance was broken down by the use of his nickname.

"I have brown hair like the lovely Sabina. Maybe now you'll go out with me," she said, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.

"Sure," Alex chuckled.

"But I'd be late," she added, looking miserable. "I'm always late. It's one of my very bad qualities. I'm right on time when it comes to saving the day, but don't leave me to my own devices when it comes to anything else. But at least I'm always late!" she finished, looking more cheerful.

"After all," she continued, pointedly ignoring her friend's gales of helpless laughter, "you can't be late until you show up, and I _always_ show up. I _have_ shown up in the wrong year, though ..."

"Wrong year?" Alex gasped, trying desperately to catch his breath.

"Yup. I was supposed to show up for Christmas at someone's house and didn't get there until January 25th. They were less than pleased. I almost got deported." That brought Alex's memory back to the subject at hand.

"So Emily ... why was _Tulip_ planning on deporting you?"

--

I tipped back my head and laughed.

"First of all, I just gotta say that I love her name. Tulip. It's just so wonderfully _not her_. I, personally, think her mother should have named her Peppermint. Or just Pepper, that would have worked too. I mean, wouldn't that have suited her so much better?"

"Answer the question, Em," Alex said sternly. I sighed.

"Fine, doctor Buzzkill," I grumbled. "She wanted to deport me because they think I'm clinically insane. And apparently that's _not_ a good thing in our business." I saw him cringe at the casual way I referred to 'our business'.

"They think you're crazy?" he asked quizzically. "I alreadly _know_ you're crazy!" I frowned at him.

"I'm perfectly serious, Alex," I said sternly. "They actually think I'm mad. Loony. Crazy. Cuckoo. Off my rocker. Lost my marbles. _They think I belong in an insane asylum, do you hear me_?" By now I was standing up, holding his face close to mine by gripping the neck of his shirt. He stared at me.

"Why?"

It was like a single pebble dropped into a puddle. A _whole_ lot of memories got stirred up.

"Well, for starters, when I was about six, my best friend in the whole world was killed. I was supposed to be there with him. Then, a little girl of about ten whom I'd promised to protect died. Then Tom was killed on a mission with Belinda. I should have been able to save them. I should have been able to stop it. Everyone I've loved, I've lost. Everyone. David, Mariposa, Tom, all of them. I've walled off my heart. I shouldn't love. It's not safe for them. Apparently, I've developed some sort of psychological paranoia that I can't protect anyone I love, so I just shouldn't love anyone, and I push everyone away and keep them at arms length. For some reason, they have decided that this is not a good thing." I let go of him abruptly and backed away.

"But _you_." The words came out with more venom than I knew was possible. But I couldn't stop now.

_"You_ have broken down every defense I have. You and Jack are my ideal family. The two of you are what I always wanted with David. Father and daughter, mother and son. It's what I never got, that you have. You have this odd little crooked smile you smile sometimes, when you don't really get the joke, or you're tired, but you want to smile anyway. You're amazing at soccer, which I always wanted to play. You watch _TV_. You have the life I always dreamed of. And I should hate you for being everything I ever wanted, but I find myself _loving_ my sort-of brother instead. You're the family I never had. And I _saved_ you." I smiled at him.

"I _saved_ you, Alex. I kept you alive." I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. "I can rest easy now. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm so glad you didn't die." The simple words apparenly had an effect on him, because he turned quite suddenly and engulfed me in a hug.

"And _I_ won't let anything happen to _you_," he promised fiercely. "You're my little sister, Em. I'm not going to let anything hurt you again. I'll keep you here. I'll keep you safe. Maybe Jack can adopt you." I smiled and allowed him to continue in this vein of thought. It wouldn't happen. I knew it. But the pretending of it was nice.

--

Alex sighed and buried his face in Emily's hair. She was crying. Her whole body was shaking softly, and he heard the occasional sniffle, which she did her best to hide.

"Would you like a tissue?" he murmured. Her hair smelled like lavendar. She giggled.

"I can get it myself. But thank you." She stood up and smiled at him.

"Alex?" She paused and looked down at her feet. "If you want me to go back ... I understand." Her eyes flitted up to meet his, and he realized that _this_ was the reason she'd been crying.

"Of course you're going to stay!" he exclaimed. "Who would I frighten with Tom's toy helicopter if you left?" he added teasingly. Emily smiled at him, a genuine smile.

"I'm sure you'd find someone." On impulse, Alex slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a half-hug.

"Ah, I might not want to. The look on your face was priceless." She rolled her eyes.

"Careful. I can still give you nightmares for months with some of my stories. All true. So watch your mouth, Alex Rider."

"I'd much prefer to watch your face," he teased, grinning. She glared at him

"No pulling a stunt like that ever again, do you hear me?" He laughed.

"I hear you, Em. No more helicopter spirits floating around the house. Got it." She smiled and picked up a book, pulling away from his hug.

"By the way, did you know you're back on the soccer team?" she asked nonchalantly, flipping through the paperback.

**So ... sorry for such a short chapter! I'll update again soon!**

**No, that wasn't a cliffie. It's just showing that everything's (sort of) back to normal between them.**

**Sabina comes over in the next chapter. Not sure where I'm going with that one, actually ...**

**No, Emily does not go all jealous catfight and kick Sab's rear posterior into the distant future. Oh yes, I remember what they do!**

**They play parcheesi. Get your mind out of the gutter.**

**Review and tell me what you think!**

**Shadow**


	11. Parcheesi and NightmareAvoidance

**Okay, I'm terribly sorry that I have taken so long, but there was camp, and summer reading, and writer's block, and school, and a bout of the 'flu that nearly KILLED ME (my sister hung a sign that said 'DO NOT ENTER: H1N1 VIRUS' on my door. No lie. H1N1, for those of you that were smart and skipped the hysteria, is swine flu.) and the resulting gobs of makeup work. So yeah. Lo ciento!**

**xXxSmidgexXx: thanks. you just crushed my dreams. but i'm glad you liked it anyway! i'll try to give her more problems in the future.**

**The Feral Candy Cane: not gonna like, the name kind of scares me. but it's cool. i really liked the helicopter demon from beyond the grave too! that was one of my favorite parts, even though it didn't write out the way i wanted it to.**

**loopygirl33: aww, you made my day with that! and as for your bestest word ever -- awesomenistic -- i am SO putting that in my dictionary.**

**Sorry for the short chapter, I'm getting back in the loop!**

Alex Rider was rather rudely awakened by a cup of water being dumped on his head. He jumped up, spluttering furiously, and lashed out with his foot on instinct. It whistled through the air and connected with the chest of drawers. He swore imaginatively, knowing his foot would probably be black and blue by nightfall.

_So much for a good start back on the football team_, he thought dismally.

"That's what you get for trying to kick your friend first thing in the morning," Emily said smartly. Whipping his drenched hair out of his face with one hand, Alex glared at her with bleary eyes.

"What was that bloody for?" he demanded, and took another swipe at her, but she tripped out of the way.

"Get up!" she chirped. "The grass is green, the birds are singing, the sun is up --" Her voice dropped down to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in.

"And I made french toast for breakfast." He grinned.

"Now you're talking. Now get out of my bedroom until I'm fully dressed, woman, and protect the innocence of your eyes!" he said, shoving her out and slamming the door.

"Fine, but breakfast is getting cold!" she yelled, and ran down the stairs laughing. He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"What a little wierdo," he muttered, pulling a tee-shirt over his head automatically before realizing.

It was, at the most, seven in the morning. On a Saturday. And she'd woken him up.

"Why did you wake me up so abominably early on a Saturday?" he yelled, before remembering that his mouth was securely muffled by the cotton.

"What on earth was your reasoning in giving me a three-second shower on a Saturday morning before any respectable person is even _thinking_ about waking up?" he demanded, sitting down at the kitchen counter. Em was standing at the kitchen sink, apparently washing up.

"Do you like jam better, or syrup?" she asked, totally ignoring his question.

"Syrup. What was with the cup of cold water?"

"I'm glad you like syrup better. I think it's kind of wierd that Jack likes jam on her french toast, but whatever. I had to ask, after all. Wouldn't want to be inhospitable! Except it's your ... house ..."

"Yes, it is," he said curtly. "Stop avoiding the question! What was with the icy morning wake-up call?" She winced.

"I ... I had a nightmare." Alex set down his fork.

"You okay?" he asked, not quite sure what to say.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," Emily said quickly, avoiding his eyes as she washed dishes in the sink.

"Emily." She slowly turned and made eye contact, gnawing her lip in apprehension.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about this nightmare." She stared at him in silence for another long moment, then opened her mouth to speak --

And the doorbell rang.

"Perfect bloody timing," he muttered, as she gratefully ran to answer the front door.

"Sabina! Lovely to see you, come right in!"

--

I smiled and laughed and chatted with Alex and Sabina, grateful that neither of them could tell I was dying inside.

"Emily, do you want to play?"

"What?" I asked, abruptly jerked out of my thoughts. Alex raised one eyebrow and waved the parcheesi box in front of my face.

"Parcheesi, Em. We're going to play parcheesi. Care to join us?"

"Why, of course I'd love to, Alex," I replied with a raised eyebrow, "but I haven't played in a very long time."

"You can play?" he asked, surprised, and I smiled vaguely.

"My mom taught me when I was little. Apparently, it's a good strategy game." Alex nodded, understanding, and Sabina wriggled impatiently.

"Can we start?" she demanded. "I just _know_ I'm going to win!" I smirked just a little.

"Of course, Sabina. Whenever you're ready." She beamed at me and quickly set up the board.

"I call yellow!" she squealed, grabbing the small wooden pieces.

"Red," Alex shot back, taking his own disks.

"I'll take blue," I said with a lopsided smile, picking my own pieces out of the cardboard box. Sabina wasn't half-bad, really, only very competitive. And too smiley. And too perfect. And her laugh was a bit odd. And perhaps a bit too thin. After all, was it really _realistic_ to be that skinny? But even so, I liked her.

"I get first move!" Alex crowed triumphantly, moving his small piece one square. I rolled my eyes.

"Child. My turn."

--

Sabina was getting somewhat frustrated. She'd thought herself quite good at parcheesi, but here this little American girl was, matching her move for move. If she hadn't been worried about wrinkles, she would've been scowling like someone just killed her kitten.

Did the bloody girl even know the truth about Alex? _That_ was what Sabina wanted to know. Had he told his little 'American Exchange Student' yet? Would he ever?

Truth was, Sabina didn't relish the thought of Alex going off to save the world and nearly get killed, but she liked having a secret between the two of them. She supposed that was rather horrible of her, but there it was, nobody was perfect.

"Your move, Em," Alex said, breaking her concentration.

"Alex, what have you been doing with yourself while I've been gone?" Sabina asked in her best flirtatious manner. Emily tuned out of the conversation almost visibly and concentrated on the parcheesi board, letting her curly brown hair fall down in her face.

"Oh, nothing much," Alex replied. "Meeting the strange woman who will be living in my house, getting caught up on makeup work, getting hit by a bus, not very exciting stuff." Sabina smiled as Emily made her move, and Alex quickly followed. She looked at the board for a moment before moving, taking Alex out of the game.

"Well if you're looking for excitement, you could always come visit me in California. Lots of exciting goings-on around there." Alex coughed into his hand.

"Well, I don't think I'll lack excitement for a while, Sabina, but I'll visit if I can." She pouted. Not lack excitement? What was so exciting about Brooklands? Or Chelsea? Or, for that matter --

Oh.

"Is it --" she whispered, breaking off and gesturing frantically. He looked up at her silently for a moment before giving one slow nod, then gesturing to keep quiet, with a significant glance in Emily's direction. Sabina sat back, satisfied.

"One thing that I find quite interesting about parcheesi," Emily commented, still gazing intently at the board. "It's quite possible to win the game with only one piece -- indeed, I myself have managed it several times -- but it's much easier and safer to do it with two. Don't you think, Alex?" She reached out and efficiently moved her piece two squares.

"My game."

--

Four.

Freaking.

_Hours_.

Of _parcheesi_.

I mean, I love the game and all, but we must have limits!

Anyway, after that we had lunch, and went for a walk, and then I said I needed to call my parents and went upstairs so Alex and Sabina could talk. She was obviously itching to tell him something, but couldn't say it with me around. Ah, well. I needed a nap anyway.

--

"Alex, wha --"

"Sabina, she's just an exchange student," he cut her off sharply. "She's sweet. Have you even really talked to her?"

"But why's she living with _you_?" Sabina wailed.

"A clerical error, and they had no place to move her," Alex bit out.

"Alex, I think she's rather sweet," Sabina began, "but I don't know if it's the best thing for her _reputation_, living with you." Alex snorted.

"Yeah, people won't exactly be falling over each other to talk to her, but then again people are stupid."

"I mean, people might think she's -- you know -- _easy_," Sabina whispered, a look of proper Victorian horror in her eyes. Alex grinned and shook his head.

"Again, Sab, people are stupid. And, after six months, she'll go home and never see us again." The thought struck him as an odd and rather painful one. He shifted it to the back of his mind to mull over later, and continued.

"Honestly, Sabina, she doesn't care. She hangs out with me, and with Tom and Jack, and we're all fine. She's happy with just the three of us." Even as he said it, Alex wondered if it was true. Emily _seemed_ happy, yes, but then, she had seemed happy five minutes before she tried to get herself run over by a bus.

"I just ... I don't want her to get the wrong impression of us, I suppose," Sabina finished, shifting uncomfortably.

"No worries there. I love it here," Emily said from the kitchen. Alex and Sabina both jumped, then rolled their eyes as Emily poked her head out, covered in flour.

"Would either of you be interested in helping me with some baking?" she asked hopefully.

**So there you have it! She's back! I did my best to make Sabina likeable, and at the same time keep her in character. You know, she came off as just a little bit snobby to me in the books, but I wasn't sure if that was just me.**

**Tell me what you think!**


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